


Little Blue

by NerdyPanda3126



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Chance Meetings, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Major Original Character(s), Mild Blood, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Songfic, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 47,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24898120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyPanda3126/pseuds/NerdyPanda3126
Summary: She comes into the bar where Luka works every day, works intensely on a project for a few hours, then leaves. He doesn't ever talk to her, doesn't even know her name, but his curiosity is piqued.When the woman he's come to know as "Little Blue" continues to come in after her project is finished, he doesn't know where it might lead, but he definitely wants to find out.
Relationships: Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 612
Kudos: 403





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This little story snippet wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it down. I was on the fence about posting it since I don't really have a plan for the story, but I had too much fun writing it not to share. 
> 
> A little background: This is a no-miraculous AU where Marinette didn't meet Adrien until she started working at _Gabriel_ , and she didn't meet Luka until she started going into the bar where he works because she needed a place she could go to focus. She does have a crush on Adrien at this point, but hasn't spent much time with him yet and doesn't know him personally.

She came into the bar every day at around the same time. Right in between the after-work rush and the late rush. Whenever she opened the door, there was always a momentary whirlwind of activity as she tried to juggle her bag and several sketchbooks. Sometimes scraps of fabric would flutter out of her hands and she would dive down to try to catch them before they hit the floor. 

She always sat in the same seat if she could, at the end of the bar, setting her things on the seat next to her and spreading her work out over the counter. The other bartenders started refusing to serve her, since she usually only ordered one drink and stayed for hours, but Luka was intrigued. 

He didn’t know her name, so he had taken to calling her “Little Blue” in his mind. He only ever saw the top of her head when it was bent down over her sketchbook, and her hair looked blue when it caught the light. When she did look up, usually with a deep breath like she was resurfacing from being underwater, her eyes were blue, too. 

He knew her order by now—well vodka with cranberry and a splash of grenadine. He would slide it over to her as soon as she got settled. The first time he did it, her cheeks had flushed about as pink as her drink, and she had muttered a quiet ‘thank you.’ After the third time, it felt like he had become an expected part of her ritual when he slid the drink over to her and she caught it without even looking up. 

This went on for a couple of weeks, until she came in one day without her normal burden of books and pencils and bags. She took her seat, and he slid her drink over. She sighed and smiled at him. 

“Did you finish your project?” He couldn’t help but ask. 

She nodded, her smile widening, and pulled the drink close to her. “It’s in the lap of the gods now.” 

He glanced around the bar. The place was empty except for the two of them and the other bartender who was down at the other end, playing a game on his phone. He had time to talk.

“Can I ask what you were working on?” 

She shook her head as she wrapped her lips around the cocktail straw and took a sip. “That’s top secret,” she said with a sly smile, setting the drink back down in front of her. 

“If it’s top secret, then why work on it at a public bar right in front of a nosy bartender?” 

“You’re not nosy.” 

“I could be.” 

She looked him up and down, considering. “You’re not nosy,” she repeated. 

“You’re right, I’m not.” He leaned back against the counter behind him, hoping he looked nonchalant. “But I’ve got a hunch you really want to talk about it.” 

He could see the internal debate warring in her eyes. She took another sip of her drink while he waited. 

"Okay, fine, but you have to swear not to tell a soul."

He laughed and held a hand over his heart, the other in the air. She wiggled on her seat excitedly before she planted her hands on the bar and leaned closer. “It was my proposal for a mini collection at _Gabriel.”_ She held in a squeal before she pushed off the bar to spin her chair, giggling to herself. 

It was by far the cutest thing he'd ever seen. Thankfully he had a moment to recover while her chair slowed and she had to pull herself back to face him. He cleared his throat. “That’s amazing.” 

“Now, I’m just waiting to hear back from Adrien-” she started guiltily, “I mean...this guy I work with...” Her cheeks were starting to turn pink. “And if he likes it, then there's a chance I’ll be a featured designer at _Gabriel'_ s show!” 

The name drop didn’t quite slip past him. An Adrien with ties high up at _Gabriel_. It didn’t take much to connect the dots. Tough competition. “So all you have to do is impress this… who was it, Adrien?” 

She nodded happily before she picked up her drink again. She took a long sip, emptying the glass, before she cradled it to her chest and sighed dreamily. He felt his heart drop to his toes, but he tamped down his disappointment for her sake. 

“A crush on the boss’s son, huh? There must be a story there.” 

She started guiltily. “A crush on…? No, I don’t–I mean, not that I don’t, but if I did–I mean…” Her blush started to spread over the tops of her cheeks and back towards her hairline. She set her glass down and pushed it towards him, avoiding his eyes. “It’s not like that,” she finally muttered. 

He let out a soft chuckle. “Don't worry, it's only you and half of Paris.” He nodded out the door, to the newest ad featuring Adrien Agreste that was posted out by the Métro station. He walked past it every night on his way home from work. Every night there seemed to be some new declaration of love scrawled across it. She followed his motion to look. When she turned back around, she laid her head down on her arms, hiding her face. 

"This isn't just your shot for your career, is it?"

“You are nosy,” she grumbled into the bar. 

“Or maybe I’m just good at reading people.” She peeked up at him through her arms and he shrugged. “Comes with the job, you know?” 

She glared out from underneath her arms and nudged her empty glass towards him with her elbow. He took the hint. He busied himself with making her another, purposefully turning his back on her so she could recover. In the mirror behind the bottles, he saw her pull herself out of her slump and start watching him. He fumbled with the bottle of grenadine when her eyes traveled down his back and lingered a little below his waist. 

He cleared his throat again as he slid her second drink over to her. She caught it and passed it between her hands, thinking something over. He wished he had something else to do other than just stand there awkwardly, waiting for her to decide if she wanted to keep talking to him or not. He leaned his back against the bar a few feet away from her and crossed his arms over his chest. It didn't escape his notice when her head turned towards him again. 

“How long have you been a bartender?” 

Relief flooded through him as he turned his head to look at her. Maybe he hadn’t royally screwed up. “I’ve been here a few years, now.” 

“Is it like your career?” 

“Something like that.” He smiled when she raised her eyebrows. “I have an arrangement with the manager. She lets me play here sometimes.” 

She swirled the cocktail straw in her drink before she glanced up at him through her eyelashes. “An arrangement, huh?" Her eyebrows went up into her bangs. "Sounds like there's a story there.” 

Her tone puzzled him. She was suggesting something but he didn’t know what else she could’ve thought he meant. 

He nearly choked when her meaning caught up with him. “Oh! Good God, no, that’s not–there's nothing like that going on. I don’t even have a girlfriend.” Wow. He did not mean to say that. He ran a hand through his hair nervously. Judging by the heat radiating from his ears, his whole face was probably turning bright red. 

A devious smile curled her lips. It must've been payback for him making her flustered earlier. She was teasing him. And he had played right into it. He shook his head in disbelief. “All right, fine, I may have deserved that.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her hide her smug smile as she took a triumphant drink. 

“I play guitar,” he finally managed to clarify when he had regained his senses. “Bartending pays the bills.”

“I've only ever seen you behind the bar.” 

"You're always here early. Manager's rules. I can only play if I'm cut before 21h and the show has to start at 22h.” 

She nodded thoughtfully. “Do you think you’ll play tonight?” 

He turned to look around. Since they’d been talking, no one else had even opened the door. “It’s definitely a possibility.”

She smiled and finished her drink before she hopped off her chair. “Maybe I should come by later to celebrate, then?” 

“Celebrate what?” he asked innocently, before he flashed her a conspiratorial grin. 

She smirked back at him before she pulled out her wallet, but he waved her off. She rolled her eyes and took out a few bills anyways and stuffed them into his tip jar. 

“See you tonight,” she called over her shoulder as she walked away. 

It took him a few minutes of staring after her, dumbfounded, before he was able to move again. He shook himself to get his senses back. If he had heard right, Little Blue would be back tonight specifically to hear him play. 

He never got nervous before a performance. But his fingertips buzzed with anticipation at the thought of playing for her. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette invites Alya and Nino to come out with her to hear her new bartender friend play his guitar.

“Come on, Alya, one drink. That’s all I’m asking.” Marinette held the dress she was considering up against herself in the mirror while she shouldered the phone. Black, too short, no swing to the skirt. She shook her head and turned back to her other options laid out on her chaise. 

“I have a deadline tomorrow, M, I can’t just blow it off.” 

“Knowing you, you had that article written a week before it was due, anyways.” 

There was a pause on Alya’s end as she considered. Marinette picked up a pale pink chiffon dress with a jewel neckline. Cute, but too innocent. She set it back down. 

“What about Nino?” Alya asked. 

“Nino can come, too.” 

“You know if this guy’s any good, Nino will go all ‘talent scout’ and pounce on him, right?” 

“Sounds like a win-win to me.” 

Her eye caught on a midnight blue, slightly shimmery dress she had pulled out. A little dark, but it would catch any light that was around. She held it up and twirled with it. Plenty of swing if she wanted to dance, and the subtle V-neck gave her a lot of options for accessories. She laid it aside.

“You really want Hot Bartender to be in Nino’s crosshairs?” 

Marinette felt a flush of heat creep up her cheeks and she hid behind her hand even though Alya wasn’t there to see her. “Oh my God, Alya, you can  _ not _ call him that if you come tonight.”

“You called him that first.” 

“Only because I don’t know his name!” 

“Weren’t you just head over heels for some sparkly model you work with? What happened with that?”

“Adrien. And he’s not sparkly.” She just happened to see sparkles whenever he was around. “And I still am, but…” She thought back to the bartender’s words.  _ You and half of Paris.  _

“But Hot Bartender is way more available?” 

Marinette groaned as she flopped onto her chaise, squashing the outfits she had rejected. Sometimes Alya was incorrigible. Although it wasn’t her fault she happened to be right this time. “It’s not like that, okay? He’s nice. He never got mad or irritated that I was there for so long and he never bugged me while I was working. I just want to let him know I appreciate it.” 

“Uh huh.”

“I’m serious. There’s nothing more going on.” 

Another pause on Alya’s end before she sighed. “Okay, we’re in. Don’t say I didn’t warn you about Nino. What are you wearing?” 

Marinette slid her hand over the fabric of the dress next to her. “The dark blue one.” 

“Girl, no. Wear the red one.” 

“The red one?” Marinette peeled herself off her chaise to sit up. There wasn’t a red dress in the pile. 

“You know, the one that’s all covered in lace?” 

Marinette wandered over to her closet. She vaguely remembered the one Alya was talking about. She had bought it on a whim during one of their shopping trips and never had any occasion to wear it. She found it stuck into the back, still with the tags on.

“Alya, no, this is way too much for that place.” 

“But Hot Bartender won’t be able to take his eyes off you,” Alya teased. 

Marinette smiled down at the dress in her hands. Red flowers were scattered around the collar of an illusion sweetheart neckline and appeared to float down the long mesh sleeves. On the front, the flowers drifted into a lace overlay. The back was completely open and the skirt was meant to taper down to just below the knee. It was a knockout dress, that was for sure. 

She sighed as she hung it back up in her closet. “Some other time, maybe.” 

“Okay, fine, but at least wear your hair down? I just want to see this guy's jaw drop, just once.” 

She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. It would be fun to see his reaction. Just once. “Deal.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! The characters are driving this bus; I have no control. Hope you liked it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka's nervous before his performance and his manager reassures him.

As he was setting up, Luka couldn’t help glancing nervously around the crowd. He had already tipped his stool over twice and almost dropped his acoustic as he was setting it in the stand against the wall. Every familiar motion seemed off somehow, like his entire world was shifted just two inches to the left. He didn’t know how to navigate his body with all his senses jangled like this. He stopped to take a deep breath. 

“Is she here yet?” He heard his manager, Sheila, ask as she stepped up behind him. 

When he turned, she tossed a water bottle at his face. Out of sheer reflex, he caught it, then promptly fumbled it and it bounced onto the floor. She grinned at him like a fox that had found a rabbit as he bent to retrieve it. He couldn’t keep his eyes from sweeping the room again as he straightened up. There were a few familiar faces dotted through the crowd, but Little Blue’s wasn’t one of them. 

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” 

She crossed her arms and jutted her hip to the side. Her sharpened acrylic nails that were curled around her bare bicep were painted so that the color shifted from green to purple under the light. “I’ve never seen you this keyed up before a show. Who’s the girl?” 

He considered making something up as Sheila’s amber eyes scrutinized him. She would see right through him, though. He knew better than to lie to her. She was a tiny thing—the top of her head barely came up to his chest—but there was a reason she hadn’t bothered to hire a bouncer. Anyone who crossed her was bundled handily out the door by the blunt force of her tongue alone. Not to mention the fact that everyone who worked for her, including Luka, would gladly jump in front of a bullet for her. 

“I don’t know her name,” he admitted, “but she said she’d be here tonight.” 

“Is this the one that’s been coming in to see you every day?” 

“She wasn’t here to see me. She had a project she was working on.”

Her eyes scanned down to his feet, then back up to his face. "Trust me, sweetheart, she was here to see you." 

He turned away to hide what was becoming a familiar flush of heat across his cheeks. Did he blush this much before he talked to Little Blue? He couldn't remember. 

He felt the door open more than heard it and whipped his head around to see who had come in. Sheila giggled and shook her head when he visibly deflated. 

It wasn't her. She wasn't here yet. 

Sheila’s eyebrows rose. "I need to meet this girl. She must really be something if she has  _ you _ this strung out." 

Luka dropped to his stool and held the cool water bottle against the back of his neck. “Yeah, I think she is.” 

“Do I need to call Anarka? Tell her when the wedding is?” 

He shot her a look. He loved Sheila like an older sister he never had, but she could be just as meddlesome. She put her hands up in defense, smiling, and took a step back. He glanced at the clock. Almost time to start and Little Blue still wasn’t here. Maybe she wasn’t coming after all. 

Sheila tapped his shoulder with the back of her hand to pull him out of his thoughts. “Look, just take a deep breath and do your thing tonight, okay? You’re great onstage.” 

She smiled at him before she backed away from the makeshift stage and walked across the room to take her place behind the bar. Luka watched as she deftly picked up a bar towel and snapped it at another bartender for leaning out into the server’s entrance. He startled at the sharp sound, but straightened up to move out of the way and she nodded her approval. 

Luka turned towards his instruments to do a final check. He felt the air pressure change as the door opened again, but refused to turn around to look. Would it really help if he knew she was there? Or would it make his nerves worse? Sheila was right. He just needed to breathe and do what he normally does. 

He picked up his electric from its stand and strummed a note or two, then kicked at his pedal a few times until he found the effect he needed. He turned and settled onto his stool, pulling the microphone a little closer to him. 

When he finally lifted his eyes to the crowd again, he caught sight of a pair of familiar blue eyes at a table off to the side. She gave him a shy wave and a thumbs up and he felt his heartbeat start to hammer in his throat.

She had her hair down. Every other time she had come in, she’d had it tied up in a bun or pigtails. Tonight it framed her face and fell gently over her shoulders. He watched as her cheeks pinked the smallest amount at whatever dumb expression he must be making. 

He closed his mouth and nodded to her, smiling, before he let his eyes sweep over the other faces. He was good at reading a crowd and adjusting his performances. Most of the people here tonight were just here to relax, but he could see one group that was out celebrating. He needed to keep it upbeat, but mellow. 

He started in on his first song with no introduction. The attention in the room shifted towards him as the notes rang out across the space. He closed his eyes to block it out, letting his fingers drift over the fretboard on their own. 

The music grounded him, and when he opened his eyes again, it was just another performance, just another night. He noticed that Little Blue’s rapt attention was trained on him, but he let the observation pass through him. She was a bright spot in the crowd, but still a part of the audience. 

When his instrumental opening came to an end, he leaned into the mic and waved. “Hey, everyone, thanks for coming out tonight. For those of you who don’t know me from behind the bar, I’m Luka, and I’ll be hanging out with you guys tonight.” 

He started the notes to his next song, repeating the first few bars absent-mindedly. A plan for a mid-set surprise was starting to form in his mind. His eyes were pulled over to Little Blue’s table, a soft smile on his face, before he addressed the crowd again. 

“Now, I’m not gonna point her out, because she knows who she is, but there's someone special here tonight.” His smile started to grow. This was either a terrible plan, or the best idea he’d ever had. “She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s gonna help me on stage in a bit and she’ll need your generous encouragement.” 

Another glance over at her table. He watched her face as his words sank in. She hid her eyes behind her hands and smiled down at the table, at once flattered and embarrassed. Check and mate. He couldn’t help but flash a grin her way. “So until then, let’s get this party started and have a little fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Marinette has Alya rooting for her, and I needed a troublemaker in Luka's corner, too, so... that's how this OC came about. I'm not sure I would call her a "major" character, but I do know that she and Alya are going to be fellow conspirators. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alya and Nino meet Sheila up at the bar and Alya notices there's definitely something going on between Marinette and Luka.

Alya leaned back against the bar, waiting for the woman who took their drink order to come back, when the guitarist Marinette had dragged them out to see started to talk. 

“Hey, everyone, thanks for coming out tonight. For those of you who don’t know me from behind the bar, I’m Luka, and I’ll be hanging out with you guys tonight.”

She turned her head and smacked Nino’s arm lightly to get his attention. “Luka. That’s his name.”

“It’s a better stage name than Hot Bartender, at least.” Nino swiveled his head to look around the room. “Looks like Marinette scored a table pretty close.” 

Alya turned to look and just barely caught the soft smile that Luka was giving Marinette. She reached back to squeeze Nino’s arm and point excitedly, but before Nino had figured out what she was pointing at, it was gone. 

“Babe... babe, my arm.”

She released her grip guiltily and sighed. “Sorry. It was so cute, though. He’s crazy about her.” 

“If you say so.” Nino shrugged. 

“You didn’t see it. That was so clearly _the look._ ” Alya stayed turned around to watch in case he did it again. She was not expecting the devilish grin that landed squarely on Marinette. She was gripping Nino’s arm again before she realized it. 

“What happened? What did he say? I missed it!” 

“Sorry for the wait, guys, here’s your drinks.” The tiny woman behind the bar set the glasses down in front of them before she seemed to notice that she was interrupting something. Alya’s investigative reflexes kicked in. 

“Do you know him?” She pointed behind her to indicate that she meant the guitarist. 

“Luka? Of course. He’s one of my employees.” 

“You’re the manager here?” 

The woman nodded and extended her hand. “Sheila. Always nice to see new faces.” Alya shook her hand over the bar. As Sheila drew her hand back, her nails barely scraped against Alya's palm. Sheila’s eyes flicked back and forth between Alya and Nino. “Are you friends of Luka’s?” 

“Well, not exactly, but our friend has been spending some time with him lately and she wanted to come see him tonight.”

Sheila’s face changed from a friendly smile to a sly grin in an instant. “That must be her.” She craned her neck to look out over the bar. “And she’s here? Now?” 

“Well, yeah, she’s saving our table for us.”

Sheila’s eyes practically gleamed. “That’s why he’s doing the bit. I’ve never known him to do it without being asked before, but if she’s here...” Sheila squealed and stamped her feet in excitement. 

Alya and Nino shared a very confused look. When Sheila stopped celebrating, she sighed and leaned her elbows against the bar as a satisfied smile spread across her face. 

“What bit? What’s he doing?” Alya asked. Whatever it was, it was something special for Marinette. She could barely contain her excitement at the possibilities of the suggestion.

Sheila glanced up at Alya. “You promise not to spoil the surprise for her?” 

Alya crossed her heart and mimed locking her lips. Sheila nodded and then shifted her eyes to Nino. Nino threw his hands up in defense. Sheila narrowed her eyes at him, but turned back to Alya. 

“He’s going to get her up on stage and write a song for her on the spot.” 

“He can improv like that?” Nino’s nose for talent was the first to catch on. 

Sheila nodded. "He told me it's something he's always done. Natural, you know? It’s like he takes what you’re thinking and turns it into music.” 

Nino turned around to get a good look at Luka and Alya rolled her eyes. There goes Nino. They’d be here all night now. At least she could try to get some good information for Marinette. 

“He must make all the girls swoon, with a talent like that,” Alya started carefully. 

Sheila nodded. “Yeah, he’s a heartbreaker.” 

Alya’s stomach dropped. Sheila seemed to notice her mistake and rushed to correct herself.

“No, no, not like that. He would never do it on purpose. It’s just that usually girls like him and he’s never really seemed to like them back. But this one…” She shook her head as her smile returned. "This one's special." 

Alya couldn't help but agree. Now if only Marinette would stop being stubborn about this Adrien guy at her work. She liked Luka, Luka seemed to like her. From where Alya was standing, there was a lot of untapped potential between the two of them. A spark. 

“Can you do me a favor?” Sheila was craning her neck again. 

“What’s the favor?” 

“On the next round of drinks, can you send her up?” 

Alya glanced at Nino. He wasn't paying any attention; his ears were completely locked in on Luka's guitar. He was probably already halfway through a marketing plan. The joys of dating an aspiring music producer. She smiled fondly at him. He was so passionate about helping artists. 

She followed his gaze. Luka was completely in his own world, pouring his heart and passion and emotion into his guitar. He would occasionally glance up, make brief eye contact with someone in the crowd, before disappearing again. In a way, he was a perfect match as an artist for Nino. 

She did notice that most of Luka's attention was directed towards a certain table. Maybe he was a perfect match for the passionate designer in her life, too.

"I just want to meet her," Sheila prompted when Alya didn't answer. 

The innocence in Sheila's tone made Alya smile. "Sure, we'll send her up."

By the grin that split Sheila's face, it looked like Alya had just announced Christmas was coming early this year. 

"Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. And remember-" she mimed zipping her lips and Alya nodded. 

"Trust me, it'll be a complete surprise."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka meets Alya and Nino

Luka leaned down to grab the water bottle at his feet and rested his elbows on his guitar as he unscrewed the cap and took a drink. So far, the night was moving along smoothly. The group he had noticed earlier was here for a bachelor party—the beginning of one, anyways—and they kept shouting out requests with killer guitar solos. Luckily, they were common enough that Luka already had them in his repertoire. He stretched his fingers out to get ahead of the ache he knew he would feel later that night.

He was balancing their requests with his originals, keeping a careful eye on the mood of the room. The mental work was his favorite part, though. It always felt like he was writing a story in his head, pacing the ups and downs, letting his guitar be the main character experiencing the story as he went. Tonight, thanks mostly to the group of guys, it was an epic tale of a knight fighting his way through thick and thin to get home to the one he loved. His bit for Little Blue would fit perfectly into his second set. The calm before the storm of the final battle. 

Two people had joined Little Blue at her table shortly after he started playing. Close friends, by the way they had been leaning their heads together to talk. He glanced at the clock. He’d been playing for about 45 minutes now. It was a good time for a break. 

“You guys are an awesome crowd. I’m gonna take five. Grab yourselves another drink and I’ll be back before you know it.” 

He unslung his guitar and set it in its stand by the wall. When he turned back around, his eyes fell on Little Blue. She was smiling at him, and he decided to take it as an invitation. He started for her table, and she scooted over, making room for him. 

He pulled the chair out from the table and sat backwards in it, resting his head on his arms. It was instinctual for him to take in the state of their drinks. They were all working on them slowly, nursing. They’d only had one round by the looks of it. 

“Great show, dude,” the man at the table started, adjusting the bill of his cap in what looked like a salute. “Love your sound.” 

Luka nodded his thanks before he drained his water bottle. His tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth. He had never wanted to impress anyone more than this small group in front of him. The woman next to Little Blue adjusted her glasses. Her smile reminded him of Sheila. Scheming, full of hidden knowledge, calculating the right time to wield it. 

“Marinette, aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?” She prodded Little Blue in the ribs with her elbow. 

Marinette. That was her name. He tried not to show how badly his head was spinning with the revelation. 

“Uh, it’s...Luka, right?” Marinette started tentatively. He nodded to confirm. “These are my friends, Alya and Nino.” She gestured to each in turn. 

“Glad you guys could make it out tonight.” 

“We’ve heard _so_ much about you.” Alya’s eyes flashed behind her glasses. “Marinette over here practically begged us to come out tonight so she could see you.” 

Now it was Marinette elbowing Alya, scowling at what must’ve been at least a half-truth. Alya grinned back at her and winked, which only seemed to infuriate Marinette more. The two girls had a brief battle of wills, which it seemed like Marinette lost—or maybe just gave up— when she noticed Luka was watching. 

“Yeah, well, uh… Nino! Is… a music producer, and I thought he might like, or you might like, or maybe that he could help with–not that you need help but–what I mean to say is, I thought you looked nice and–well, I mean not _looked_ nice, but you do look _nice_ and…” 

Alya nudged her gently and Marinette clamped her mouth shut. “What she means to say is that she’s grateful you helped her out when she was working on her designs and she thought it would be cool for you and Nino to meet.” 

Luka’s throat went dry. He turned back towards Nino. “A music producer?” 

Nino nodded and pulled a card out of his pocket, offering it across the table to Luka. “Dude, you’ve got the goods. Do you have someone repping you yet?” 

Luka stared down at the card before he accepted it with shaking fingers. Last time he had trusted a music producer, he was just out of lycée. His songs had been stolen and given to a more popular artist. He hadn't had the money to hire a lawyer and fight the company for the rights to his own music. Now every time he heard his melodies on the radio, looped over nonsensical electronic tracks, he found his fist clenching on its own. 

He could feel Marinette’s eyes on him. She barely knew him, but she had trusted him with her hopes for the future. He felt like he could trust her with his. If this Nino guy was her friend, it might be worth a shot. 

“Have you met Sheila?” 

“Yeah, up at the bar. The manager of this place, right?” 

Luka nodded, still staring at Nino’s contact information on the card. While he felt like he could trust Marinette, he knew he trusted Sheila. “What she says goes.” He handed the card back to Nino, not unkindly, as confirmation that he wouldn't be making the call. He glanced up at the clock and his five minutes were up. As he stood, his eyes fell on Marinette, then flicked to her drink. 

He smirked at her. “You’ll need another one of those before I get you up on stage.” 

She went crimson and hid her face behind her hands again. He turned to walk away, mostly because he had to get back to performing, but partly because the way she blushed when he looked at her made him forget to breathe. 

He flexed his fingers again. He could only hope he still remembered how to play the guitar.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette meets Sheila and thinks about her meeting with Luka

“M, do me a favor, will you?” Alya was scribbling something on the back of Nino’s card. When she had finished, she proffered it to Marinette with a triumphant grin. “Will you take this up to the bar and get us another round?” 

Marinette took the card and flipped to the back to see what Alya had written. “Is this for Sheila?” Marinette asked when she noticed that Alya had written her own contact information on the back of Nino’s. 

Alya nodded enthusiastically. “You know, in case Nino’s not available or something.” Her eyes sparked behind her glasses in the way Marinette had come to know meant she was plotting something. But Marinette shrugged anyways and made her way back to the bar. 

As she stood waiting for an opening at the crowded bar top, she stared down at the card in her hands. If Nino and Luka started working together, that would mean that she might see him more often. She glanced back at him on the stage. Something about him had drawn her to him. She couldn't put her finger on it.

He seemed different on stage, but whatever it was, it was still there. He looked perfectly content with the guitar tucked into him like an extension of himself. He had one foot braced on the crossbar of his stool and his other heel tapped out his beat on the floor. She had been mesmerized by his hands all night. She hadn’t noticed before, but he kept his fingernails painted black and they drew her attention as they moved over the fretboard. There was something about him. Something he just was. 

She had glimpsed it before when she was working on her proposal. The few moments she had pulled herself out of her design flow, she had noticed his electric blue eyes, the way he flowed around the space behind the bar, the natural affinity he seemed to have with everyone around him.

The first time she went into the bar, it had been because she kept getting interrupted at the office, but she couldn't think straight in the silence of her apartment. The bar was right next to her work. It was a quiet place most of the time when she went in, but there was still the movement of life around her, the casual exchanges between the bartenders, the patrons that laughed with each other, the steady thunk of darts hitting their target. With the stream of background noise, she found that her creativity bubbled up inside her. But it had no focus. The designs were fine by themselves, but there was nothing driving them, no cohesion. 

That is, until the day Luka slid her drink across the counter as soon as she sat down. He didn't say anything, but her eyes had met his for the briefest moment. 

His quiet presence bled into her designs that day. Once she had started focusing in on him, unconsciously tapping into the energy he exuded, she had actually had more trouble whittling down her designs than coming up with them in the first place. The sketches had practically drawn themselves just by being around him. He had been her inspiration and her muse. 

Of course, she would never tell him that. How creepy would that be? 'Hey, Hot Bartender, you have pretty eyes and I liked the way you moved so I based my entire collection on you.' No. As far as he knew, she just liked to have a drink while she worked. And she intended for it to stay that way. It was highly unlikely he would ever see her designs, anyways. 

She shook her head and pulled herself out of her thoughts, remembering she was supposed to be getting drinks. She found herself a space at the bar top and rested her elbows against it, just watching the bartenders. It was a flurry of activity behind the bar—nothing like the normal time of day she came in. 

"What can I get you?" 

Marinette's focus snapped to the expectant amber eyes that were trained on her.

"Oh, um, do you know if I can talk to Sheila?" 

"That's me." 

"My friend, Alya, wanted me to give this to you." Marinette handed the card over and Sheila took one glance at it before her eyes lit with recognition. 

"Of course! Alya. Excellent." She tucked the card into her back pocket. "And you are…?" 

"Marinette." 

Sheila reached out to take Marinette's hand and held it in between hers, grinning. "Amazing to meet you, Marinette."

"Good to meet you...too?" 

Sheila's enthusiasm was puzzling. Did she greet everyone she met behind the bar this way? As she held onto Marinette's hands, she seemed to be committing every detail of Marinette's face to memory, scanning over her with a carefully guarded optimism. After a moment, Sheila seemed to remember they were in the middle of a busy bar and she snapped to attention. "So, drinks?" 

"Yeah, uh, vodka with-" 

"Cranberry and grenadine," Sheila interrupted, already working on it, "Luka told me." 

"Luka told you?" 

Sheila's answer was a sly sideways glance. Marinette turned to look at the stage again. Luka wasn't paying attention to anything. His head was bent over his guitar, and all she could see were the blue tips of his hair as they fell across his face. 

"Why would Luka…?” She wondered aloud as she turned back around. 

Sheila shrugged as she finished Marinette’s drink and started in on what Marinette knew was Alya’s drink order: a tequila sunrise. 

“Why does Luka do anything, you know? He’s an artist type. Passionate.” 

Marinette’s head was spinning. Sheila’s tone was casual, but there was something hidden in her words. Sheila finished Alya’s drink and reached into the cooler to grab a bottle of beer for Nino. Still reeling, Marinette started to reach for her wallet, but Sheila shook her head. 

“On me.” 

Before Marinette could argue, Sheila had flitted to the next customer, and Marinette was left alone with the three drinks. 

As she started to walk back to her seat, balancing the drinks carefully and paying extra attention to her feet, she noticed Luka pull his head up. His eyes went to her table first, then flicked around the room until they fell on her. The music kept flowing from his guitar as their eyes locked, and it wrapped around her and pulled her closer to him. 

She didn’t notice when she arrived back at her table, but Alya tapped at her leg and it snapped her out of the spell. Luka’s head went back down over his guitar. Marinette sank into her seat and set the drinks down solidly on the table. 

She knew Alya was probably smirking at Nino as she distributed the drinks across the table, but Sheila’s words were still echoing in Marinette’s head. Passionate. But why would Sheila tell her that about Luka just because he remembered her drink order? She already knew he remembered it; he had it ready to go every day when she came in. It must've been because he passed the information along to Sheila that was rattling her. Remembering it is one thing. Making sure someone else knew who she was and what she liked seemed important somehow. 

She heard Alya saying something over the music, but the meaning of the words washed over her. It took Alya insistently prodding at Marinette’s arm to get her attention. 

“Girl, you’re up,” Alya said as she pointed to Luka. 

“What?” 

“Come on, guys, let’s give Marinette some applause.” Luka started clapping on stage and the crowd joined in, and it was only then that it dawned on Marinette what was happening. 

Luka was standing next to his stool. He inclined his head towards it, telling her she could sit there. At the thought of being up there next to him, without the barrier of the bar, she couldn't help the embarrassed smile that started to spread across her face, any more than she could stop the heat from rising to her cheeks. 

When he flashed her another grin, she could almost hear his voice in her head, daring her to chicken out. She met his eyes evenly and downed her drink without breaking eye contact. When his grin slipped and his cheeks turned pink, a thrill ran up her spine and it made her shiver. She set her glass down and made her way up to the stage followed by Alya's cheers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I started looking for Luka's song for Marinette, I was really only looking for something I could use for this one bit. But when I found the song, _I found the song_ and this entire thing wrote itself in my head. 
> 
> Please excuse me setting up my dominoes; when they all fall (and if I can pull this off) it's going to be tooth-rotting fluffy cuteness


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka does his bit for Marinette and gets a little more than he bargained for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated linking the song here, buuut it's pretty central to the story and this chapter might fall a bit flat without it. If you do listen, though, remember that Luka only has the guitar part, bits of the vocal melody, and a few lyrics right now. He'll be "writing" the rest over the course of the story, so... spoilers. But the song is [Once in a Lifetime](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KHy9mLJ7enk) by Landon Austin if anyone wants to give it a listen.

Luka offered Marinette a hand to help her onto the stool before he pulled the microphone up to his height. He had switched to his acoustic before he called her onstage. For some reason this worked better when he had the natural sound of the strings. 

“Everyone, this is my good friend, Marinette.” Well, good enough friend, he supposed, and the crowd didn’t need to know they’d only talked for the first time a few hours ago. “Now, Marinette has graciously agreed,” at this he smirked over at her, “to help me out with this next part.” 

He settled the guitar in place, pausing to let his words quiet the room. The first part of this bit was vaguely scripted. “I don’t know if I told you this, Marinette, but I’m pretty good at reading people.” Marinette nodded her agreement as he continued, “In fact, I’m willing to bet that I can play what you’re thinking right now on this guitar.”

He had a few simple chords worked out for the basic responses he had received to his statement. Most commonly, it was disbelief, which was kind of a ‘yeah, right, uh huh,’ progression. Based on Marinette’s facial features, the way her eyebrows raised skeptically and the subtle eye roll she gave the crowd and the not-so-subtle head shake towards him, he broke that one out and watched as her face shifted, falling perfectly into his next cue. 

After the disbelief, there was usually a slight shock. Like “how did you do that?” As Marinette’s eyebrows went up and she started looking around to confirm that she wasn’t the only one hearing what she thought she was hearing, Luka translated her expression onto his guitar. 

The next one was tricky. There were a few that he usually picked from, and he had to pick it right within a matter of moments, or the bit fell flat. It all depended on if Marinette would be excited about his magic trick, if she was worried about her thoughts being broadcasted to the room, or—and he hoped this wouldn’t be the case—if she was angry with him for his presumption.

As Marinette’s expression shifted, he watched carefully for the little tells he knew would be there for each. Her wide eyes brightened, her parted lips curved up just slightly into a smile, and she turned towards him to see what he would do next. Excited. She was excited to see what he could do. He almost fumbled the notes due to his own giddiness. 

Once he finished that little bit, the next part was the real trick. He bowed to the crowd, before he straightened up and turned more fully to Marinette. “How’d I do?” 

She nodded, beaming up at him, and he couldn’t help it as he smiled back at her. She was doing great. 

“The song I’m going to play now, it doesn’t exist anywhere else. It’s not written down, and it hasn’t been rehearsed. You all get to hear it for the first time, right here, tonight. Marinette’s song.” His smile softened as his fingers started finding notes on their own, without his conscious direction. 

He let the room disappear, until it was just the two of them. He was good at reading people, it was true, but he had never been able to explain the way this worked. He could just hear the notes that were attached to people. The melodies they carried with them. 

Marinette’s was soft, with lots of movement. There were low notes that he was hitting in between the main melody, and they reverberated through the guitar and into his chest each time. She was kind, and optimistic, but also sincere. She brought a hand up to lay over her heart, closing her eyes to listen to him. It gave him a little thrill that what he was playing resonated with her and it came out on his guitar as an understated flourish. 

It wasn’t typical for anything but the guitar music to come to him when he did this. Usually after playing a few lines to prove his point, he would release his volunteer, the crowd would clap, the night would move on.

But as he focused on Marinette, his own melody transposed on top of hers, and he found himself humming what would be the vocalist's part. He didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until he opened them again and met hers. 

_ I’m caught in your eyes  _

The lyric came to him like a bolt of lightning. 

_ I’m standing where the lightning strikes _

Words weren’t his strong suit. Music was simpler and more effective. What was happening right now, on this stage, with her, was nothing he had experienced before. 

_ I know this doesn’t happen twice _

His fingers faltered and paused, due only to his own complete shock. The room rushed back to him. The entire crowd was quiet, focused, waiting to see what he would do next. But he couldn’t even breathe. The song was bouncing around his head now, filling his ears, and he was almost afraid that if he spoke or introduced a new sound, that it would dissipate. 

“Luka?” Marinette’s soft voice broke through first. He felt her timid fingers brush against his arm, checking to make sure he was okay. He had apparently stopped mid-note, and he was just staring at her. 

The song stayed. He had a feeling it would be playing in his head now until he got it written down and finished. Marinette’s song would be the only one he heard until he got it right. 

Marinette was still obviously concerned for him. Her fingers were still resting on his arm. The warmth of her touch was making his heartbeat speed up. He shook his head out of his trance and tried to chuckle to cover his awkward silence. It came out as a cough and he cleared his throat instead.

“How about a round of applause for my friend, Marinette?” He gestured to her as some confused, scattered applause went around the room. He offered her a hand again to help her down, and she accepted it, her brow still furrowed as she worried about him. When she took his hand, it felt like an electric shock that went straight to his heart. 

He willed himself to smile normally at her, to send her off the stage without letting her know what was happening with him. 

What was happening with him, anyways? This was crazy. There was no way he could be this far gone over a woman he’d had two conversations with. And yet, that seemed to be the case as her song kept looping in his head, the low parts thrumming through him in time to his heartbeat. 

He cleared his throat again and tried to come back to the stage, back to his performance. Back to his story about the knight and the battle and the obstacles he would have to face to get home to the one he loved. Little Blue was supposed to be the calm before the storm. But she was the storm. And he was standing in the middle of it, not even caring if he got struck by lightning twice in the same night. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He likes her, she's oblivious, and Alya is determined to make this happen.

“She didn’t even need the red dress. Damn, she broke him,” Alya muttered to Nino. Luka was standing stock-still on stage, frozen, staring at Marinette. 

Nino made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. He currently had his eyes lowered to his phone as he scanned through Luka’s Instagram. Alya snuck a peek and caught a picture of Luka next to a familiar face. 

“Wait, go back." Nino scrolled back up until Alya stopped him. "Is that Juleka Couffaine?” 

Nino started to check the caption, but Alya already knew it was her. Marinette had gushed about this model and her signature violet streak and the badass designers she had worked with. Juleka's niche seemed to be fashion mixed with rock and roll, which were two of Marinette's obsessions. She was Marinette's favorite model. Well, maybe second favorite currently, but still. 

In the picture, Juleka was giving Luka a sideways hug with a brilliant smile. She hadn't been tagged. Probably for privacy. Was she Luka’s girlfriend? She couldn’t be his girlfriend. Alya looked back towards the stage. Luka was helping Marinette down with an absolutely moonstruck look on his face. It was not an ‘I’m so sorry, I’m already taken by a supermodel’ look. It was a ‘take me, I’m already yours’ look. 

“Shit, you're right. She’s Luka’s sister,” Nino said.

Sister. Sister made sense. She glanced again at the picture.

A plan was starting to take shape in her mind. All the pieces were right here. Marinette had told her she was working on a proposal for a fashion show. She hadn’t shown Alya the designs before she turned them in, but Alya knew Marinette’s would be chosen. There was no way they wouldn’t be.

Alya didn’t know much about the process, but if Marinette had a show, then she might be able to pick her own models. The models would need music to walk down the runway to. There happened to be an upcoming musician in the room who might soon be under an upcoming music producer’s influence. This could work. All it would take would be a simple suggestion to get the ball rolling, maybe a few nudges here and there to keep it on track...

Marinette sat back down at the table, frowning. She was still heavily focused on Luka; sweet, innocent thing, her brows knit together as she worried about him and tried to figure out what had happened. To be fair, Luka had recovered well. He was still standing, and he seemed a little more fidgety, but he had moved on with his next song and there wasn’t much indication left that he had just fallen hard and fast for her friend. 

Alya shook her head. Marinette would never know, and Luka probably wouldn’t say anything. Hopeless. Both of them. This couldn’t end here before it even had a chance to get started. 

“Hey, M, wanna see something cool?” 

“Hmm?” Marinette tore her eyes away from the stage, seemingly with some difficulty. 

Alya smirked and slid Nino's phone across the table to show Marinette. She could almost see Marinette processing as her eyes flicked back and forth over the picture. 

"That's Juleka Couffaine! That's Luka with Juleka Couffaine!" Marinette grabbed the phone off the table to get a better look, and probably to read the caption. 

Wait for it. 

"She's his sister?!"

There it was. 

Alya took the phone back from the incredulous Marinette and gave it back to Nino. Check one. Marinette would get the idea on her own to ask Luka for a favor when the show was announced, which would ensure that Marinette came back to see Luka at least once. And Alya had a feeling that was the only push Marinette would need to come back to see him. But there was no harm in setting up a safety net, just in case. 

“I’ll be right back.” 

"I'll come with you," Marinette offered, most likely assuming Alya was on her way to the bathroom. 

"No, no. You… stay. Here. With Nino. I promise I'll just be a minute."

Marinette and Nino both gave her equally confused looks. She leaned over to give Nino a quick kiss on his cheek and also gave him a secret smile. They had been together long enough that Nino understood her meaning in an instant and nodded before Alya left her seat to go back up to the bar. If this was going to work, she'd not only need Sheila's blessing, but her help as well.

The bar was busier than when they first got there, but Alya was hoping she could still get Sheila's attention, if only for a moment. She didn't have to wait long. As soon as Sheila made eye contact she came right over.

"Did you see it? I didn't get a chance to watch. What happened?" Sheila was bouncing on her toes impatiently. 

"Yeah, I saw it." Alya couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. "He just _stopped._ He was in the middle of playing, and he just stopped and stared at her." 

"Let me guess, she’s oblivious." Sheila was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes and her tone was cautious. 

"How'd you know?" 

"When she was up here earlier, I might've fibbed a bit to gauge her reaction." Sheila didn't seem at all apologetic for her meddling. "She didn't have any idea that Luka cared for her. Alya," she eyed Alya carefully, calculating, "I don't want him getting hurt. You tell me right now. Does he have a shot with her?" 

Alya paused to consider. Marinette was stubborn, but it was mostly because she made plans for herself and stuck to them. That was how she got the job at _Gabriel_ in the first place _._ She wanted to work there, so she made it happen. Knowing her, she probably already had a plan mapped out for her life with Adrien, complete with a house and three kids and a hamster named—but that wasn’t the point. The point was, what was happening with her and Luka had just happened naturally, spontaneously. Marinette was attracted to him, that much was clear, even if she wasn’t admitting it.

If Marinette let herself, she could fall in love with Luka. If she gave him a chance. But that meant that Luka needed to have that chance, too. 

“I think so. I have a plan.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the night went a little differently than expected.

It had been a week. An entire week and Marinette hadn’t been back in. Luka didn’t realize how much he always looked forward to seeing her until she just wasn’t there anymore. Her song was still looping through his head. He had already caught himself several times humming it without even noticing. He started keeping a notebook with him behind the bar and trying to jot the notes down, but he couldn’t seem to get it right. It was like the song couldn’t be finished unless he saw her again. 

He doubted he ever would, though. 

He accidentally twirled his pen through his fingers like he would his guitar pick, and grimaced as the tendons in his hand flexed over his still-bruised knuckles. All he really remembered from the other night was Sheila arguing with the bachelor party. They had started to get steadily more obnoxious as the night wore on, and Sheila had gone over to ask them to leave.

Luka hadn’t heard what was said, but the next minute, the guy she was talking to was face down on the table as Sheila held his arm behind his back. She had asked them again to leave. Luka had half-stood, his guitar already by his side. Sheila had waved him off, but Luka had felt the group of men snap the second before they moved. And he had jumped in front of Sheila without a second thought. 

When he had come back to himself, his knuckles were cracked open and three guys were on the floor, holding broken noses and bruised jaws, scurrying away from him. Sheila had pulled him to the back—the sight of the blood running from her lip had almost made him black out again—and she had given him ice for his hand and told him to stay put and he hadn’t had much of a mind to argue with her. When he had finally ventured back out, Little Blue and her group had left. 

And he didn’t blame them. 

He passed his pen through his fingers on purpose this time, feeling each little shock of pain. The lines of her song he had been trying to transcribe stared back at him. He scribbled through it. No, he wouldn’t be seeing her again. He’d just have to find a way to live with the neverending reminder playing in his head. 

“What are you working on?” 

His head snapped up as the very voice he had been wanting to hear broke through his reverie. Marinette was leaning over the bar, trying to see into his notebook. He shut it hurriedly. 

“It’s top secret,” he said in a daze. 

“If it’s top secret, then why work on it right in front of a nosy fashion designer?” 

She was smiling at him, hoping he would get the joke. He did, but he was still too stunned to be coherent. He flexed his hand unconsciously. It drew her attention, and she held out her hand, wordlessly asking to see it. 

Hesitantly, he laid his hand in hers and watched her face as her blue eyes scanned over the bruising. 

“I’m sorry about what happened.” The words fell out of his mouth.

She blushed and released his hand. “At least it doesn’t look like there was any permanent damage. It would’ve been a shame if you couldn’t play anymore.” 

“It’s just those guys, they were out of line, and Sheila-” 

“How is Sheila? Is she okay?” 

“She’s fine. Her lip’s still healing, but she’s been more worried about me.” 

Marinette nodded and tucked a dark strand of hair back behind her ear. A silence stretched between them. 

“Nino says hi, by the way,” she finally said, “he was hoping you’d had a chance to think about his offer.”

“His offer?” 

Marinette’s head quirked to the side. “Sheila didn’t tell you?” 

“No, she’s been trying to get me to call him, though.” 

“Why haven’t you?” 

His jaw tensed as he dropped his eyes to his wounded hand, still laying on the bar where she had left it. He pulled it back down to his side, and she seemed to guess his meaning. 

“We all know you were just protecting Sheila,” Marinette said gently. “And I’m really glad you were there.”

He dared to meet her eyes again. She wasn’t judging him, and she wasn’t afraid of him. He couldn't tell her that he was terrified of himself. 

"Anyways, Nino wanted to see if you'd be willing to record a demo with him." 

"He still wants to work with me. After that?" 

"I think his words were, 'rough around the edges,' but he really likes what you do. He was going on about gaining you a following and how you'd be an instant fan favorite. He's really excited." 

"So why are you here?" 

Marinette blushed to the roots of her hair and Luka cursed his choice of words. "I just meant, why didn't he come to talk to me himself?" 

"Well, I also had some news and Alya thought I could just stop by and ask about Nino while I was here." 

He took a second to process. News. But that had to mean-

"You got the show?" 

Marinette grinned and hid her eyes behind her hands as she nodded. 

"Marinette, that's amazing!" A laugh was startled out of him as he reached out to take her hands away from her face. 

God, those eyes. He got caught in them all over again. His mind went completely blank. He was only brought back when he felt her wiggling excitedly all the way from her toes. She was talking at the speed of sound—as soon as he released her wrists and she had her hands back she started gesticulating wildly on top of it—and he managed to catch the tail end of what she was saying. 

"-in September, and there’s so much to do before then, and I’m not even sure if I’ll have everything done, I mean, I’m surprised Adrien even picked mine, so many amazing designers applied, and-”

Luka held his hands up in a time out gesture, smiling again. "He picked your designs because they're the best.”

“Yeah, but-” 

“Not up for argument." He raised his eyebrows and she smiled back as she relented. "And as far as getting everything done, I’ve seen how hard you work. I have complete faith in you.” 

She was wiggling again. Absolutely adorable. He cleared his throat and ran his good hand through his hair when he realized he’d unintentionally been staring and smiling at her for too long.

"I guess that means you won't be in for a while, then," he started carefully, "busy with the show and everything." 

"I can't exactly sew at a bar top." Her tone was teasing as she leaned towards him over the bar.

He leaned forward on his arms and glanced up at her through his hair. "Well, I mean... you could. Not easily, but…" He raised his eyebrows again, and she rolled her eyes at him. "It is doable." 

There was a comfortable pause between them as Luka smirked and Marinette pretended to be annoyed at him. She broke first by letting out a soft laugh and leaning away with a sigh. 

"I'm sure I'll still get off in time to see you play, sometimes, though." Her eyes flicked to his hand and he subtly tucked his knuckles under his arm, wincing as his weight settled on a sore spot. Her expression softened. "Or maybe, if you call Nino, I could buy your album someday and listen to you play anytime." 

He nodded and leaned back to straighten up, running his hand through his hair again as he looked away. He still wasn't sure why Nino would want to work with him after he had embarrassed himself so fully by losing control like he did. He wasn't really anything special, anyways. He was just a bartender and he happened to play guitar sometimes. He didn't want to waste anyone's time, and he definitely didn't deserve a second chance, so maybe he should just forget Nino even offered and-

Marinette surprised him out of his thoughts by taking his other hand in hers. His eyes snapped to hers. 

"I have faith in you, too, Luka."

He nodded again, completely lost for words. She was waiting for him to say something, so he cleared his throat. But nothing came out when he opened his mouth, so he shut it again and nodded one more time. 

She squeezed his hand before she let go and adjusted the bag on her shoulder. “I’ll see you around, then?” 

Another nod. He was hopeless today. But she smiled at him before she turned and walked out the door. 

Luka shook himself after she left and tapped his fingers on the bar to release some of the pent up energy that was rushing through him. Little Blue wanted him to call Nino. Sheila wanted him to call Nino. A demo. That might not be so bad. He rapped his good knuckles on the bar top decisively. 

He walked to the back and found Sheila sitting in front of a makeshift table made from a cutting board on top of a bucket, nonchalantly cutting lemons. He stopped when he saw her and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“How long have you been eavesdropping?”

“I’m just cutting lemons for tonight.” She feigned innocence as she cleared her board of the lemon she had just finished and started on another one, cutting the ends off before halving it. 

“Right.” 

Sheila stopped and smiled up at him. “So you’re calling him?” 

“Yeah, I need his number.” 

She dug in her pocket and produced the card Nino had given him the other night. She handed it to him and he spun it between his fingers. It was slightly sticky now from the juice that had been on her hands. There were smudged pencil marks on the back, but he couldn’t read them. 

“Also, was there an offer I needed to know about?” he asked. 

“You would’ve known about it if you had called him sooner.” Sheila’s eyes flashed in a familiar challenge before she shrugged and dropped the knife through the lemon, slicing it easily into wedges. “But we really only talked about a few details. I asked him how everything would work.”

Luka shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “And?” 

“And, you would get a physical copy of absolutely everything. Nino handles the technical side of things, helps you get your foot in the door, but you call the shots.”

“And you trust him?” 

Sheila paused in her movements to look up at him. “No, I don’t.” She pointed at him with the knife. “That was your problem before, you know. You trusted blindly. You didn’t have it backed up by anything.” She used the knife to scrape the finished lemon wedges into the small tub she’d been using. 

“Are you saying I shouldn’t work with him?” 

“That’s not what I’m saying at all.” She sealed the tub with its lid, gathered up the soiled cutting board and the knife, and stood, being careful to keep the knife point tucked down by her side. “I think he means well and he seems nice. I like him.”

Luka’s brow furrowed. She wasn’t making much sense. 

“It’s  _ your  _ music, Luka, and it’s  _ your _ decision. Don’t forget that.” 

With that, Sheila turned to walk away and left him staring at Nino’s card. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, the bar fight most definitely wasn't part of Alya's plan, but it only got derailed a little lol
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Alya's suggestion, Nino invites Luka out to Marinette's surprise celebratory dinner, but it turns out to be a surprise for the two of them instead

“Awesome, dude, I’ll send everything over, and you can take a look whenever—no pressure—and get back to me later.” 

Alya caught the tail end of Nino’s conversation as she walked into the apartment and set her purse and keys down. She went to investigate and found him in his ‘office,’ which was really just their second bedroom turned into Nino’s space. She knocked on the doorframe to get his attention and he turned around. He covered the phone with his hand and looked at her expectantly. 

“Luka?” Alya mouthed at him. 

He nodded before he turned his attention back to his conversation. “No, I totally get it, man, a lot of harsh people in the industry. No hard feelings at all.” 

She caught his eyes again and mouthed, “Dinner?” Nino didn’t catch her meaning and gave her a quizzical look. “Marinette?” She tried again. He nodded again as he understood. 

“We’re actually taking Marinette out to dinner to celebrate tonight. Would you want to come with? Maybe talk a bit more business?” He gave Alya a thumbs up. “Are you kidding? She’d be so excited if you came because she totally likes…” 

Alya was miming at him frantically not to spill the beans, and he seemed to get the message at the last second. 

“Food. Marinette likes food. And if you like food, too, then she’ll be excited to see you. And talk about food.” He gave her another thumbs up and Alya let her forehead fall into her palm. Subtle, he was not, but she loved him for it anyways. 

“Cool. I’ll text you the details.” 

Alya mimed for him to hand over the phone, and he did. “And wear something nice,” she said into the receiver.

On the other end, Luka laughed. “Define nice.” 

“Let’s see, something without holes and shoes that don’t have graffiti all over them.” 

“I’ll have to scour my closet.” She could practically hear him smirking. 

“You’d better. Marinette’s going to be dressed to kill.” 

By the silence on the other end of the line, Alya guessed Luka had swallowed his tongue. Perfect. “So, we’ll see you soon, bye!” She hung up before he could protest. 

“Babe, could you try not to kill my potential clients?” 

“That’s no fun, though,” Alya said as she tossed the phone back to him. He pulled a face as he caught it. 

“I thought we were surprising Marinette tonight?” 

“And we still are. She’ll be  _ surprised  _ to see him. See, there.” 

Nino took his hat off and scratched the top of his head with the bill before he settled it back into place. “So we’re telling her about dinner, but we’re not telling her about Luka being there?” 

Alya grinned at him before she took her own phone out to call Marinette. 

* * *

Luka tugged at the collar of the black button down he had chosen. Alya had said ‘nice.’ But that hopefully didn’t mean he’d have to be strangled by his shirt all night long. He opened the top two buttons and set about rolling his sleeves up to his elbows neatly. 

When he finished, he looked down at himself, twisting to try to get the full effect. Black skinny jeans and teal converse might not be considered ‘nice,’ but he liked it. He ruffled his hand through his hair to try to get it to do anything other than… whatever it always did. A quick check in the mirror showed him that he had only made it stick up in a funny way and he smoothed it back down. 

He couldn’t help but wonder what Marinette would look like tonight. Would she wear her hair down again, or up in her usual bun? Would she be wearing one of her original designs? He wouldn’t have the safety net of the stage or the bar tonight. What if he couldn’t think of anything to say? 

He ran his hands through his hair again, this time from nerves. His phone buzzed in his back pocket. When he checked the text, Nino had said they were on their way and sent him an address not far from his place. Within walking distance, so he could save on a Métro ticket. He tugged at the bottom of his shirt one more time. Now or never. 

On his way out the door, he vaguely remembered rain in the forecast and grabbed a jacket just in case.

* * *

“Alya, are you going to tell me what this is all about?” 

“We’re celebrating, girl, isn’t that enough to get dressed up and go to a fancy place?” 

Alya’s eyes were flashing behind her glasses again. Marinette sat back in her seat in Nino’s car and watched the city pass by. Something was up. 

Alya had called and said she was coming over, but when she had arrived, she had insisted on going out tonight. ‘To celebrate,’ she kept saying. She had taken the red dress from the back of Marinette’s closet along with a pair of nude high heels, and pushed them into Marinette’s hands and told her to get ready. 

Now they were headed to some mystery ‘fancy place’ and Alya was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement. Suspicious excitement. 

Nino pulled up by the curb to let them out, and Marinette’s door was opened for her. She focused on setting her high heel down solidly before she noticed that someone was offering her a hand. She took it without thinking before she looked up. 

Luka was standing in front of her. He was dressed up—or at least as dressed up as she had ever seen him. His black button down clung nicely to his chest and shoulders and his subtle aquatic cologne was filling the small space between them. He offered her a sheepish smile before his hand tightened around hers to help her up. The calluses on his fingertips brushed against her wrist. She glanced down again to check that her footing was secure and noticed his teal converse. When she was standing, Luka reached around her to shut the car door. Standing this close to him was making her dizzy for some reason. 

“But what are you doing here?” She couldn’t help it. The words flew out of her unbidden. 

He blushed and let go of her hand so he could run his fingers through his hair. It was smoothed down on that one side, she noticed, from the number of times he had done it already. He was nervous. 

Alya linked an arm through Marinette’s and Marinette whipped her head around. Alya’s grin was predatory. “Nino invited him. I didn’t see why the boys couldn’t talk a little business while we were out.” 

Marinette turned back to look at Luka. He had tucked his hands in his pockets, supporting the jacket that was draped over his arm, and was turned away from them, seemingly very interested in the awning above their heads. If she didn’t know him better, he would look the very picture of indifference, but she could tell that the tips of his ears were bright red.

She looked back at Alya, completely bewildered. Alya nudged Marinette’s ribs with the elbow that was hooked through hers, and jerked her head subtly towards Luka. Marinette shook her head as slightly as she could. How many times did she have to tell Alya there was nothing going on between them? 

Alya raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes as she huffed impatiently. “I’m going to wait here for Nino to get back. You and Luka can go grab us a table,” she announced. She took her arm out of Marinette’s and pushed her gently forward. 

With the unexpected momentum, Marinette stumbled in her heels towards Luka and she watched in slow motion as he moved forward at the same time to steady her. Her hands landed squarely on his chest. His hand ghosted along the bare skin of the small of her back before he retreated, and it made her shiver. 

He took a step back and offered his arm instead, and Marinette took it while she recovered. As her hand curled around his bicep, she couldn't help but notice the defined muscle through the fabric of his shirt. She couldn't tell if it was conscious or not, but she felt him flex the smallest amount. She glanced back at Alya.

“Go on. We’ll be right behind you.” 

Marinette nodded and let Luka lead her into the restaurant. After a brief exchange with the host, they started to wind through the restaurant to the available table.

“Don’t look now, but I think we’ve been set up,” Luka murmured while they walked. 

Marinette glanced back out the window and sure enough, Alya had disappeared. She blushed as red as her dress. That settled it, Alya was officially incorrigible. 

“I’m gonna kill her," Marinette muttered under her breath.

Luka paused and she stopped with him. 

“We don’t have to stay, you know," he said quietly. "They left already. They’ll never know the difference.” 

Marinette looked up at him. He was staring straight ahead, waiting for her answer, but giving her time to think. She knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t do anything she was uncomfortable with. He was giving her an out. But she found herself curious. She hadn't spent any time with him outside the bar. If nothing else, it was a chance to get to know him better. 

“Well, we do already have a table.” 

When he glanced down to check her expression, she smiled up at him and gestured with her head. He followed her gaze. The host had set up their table already and was waiting for them. She felt him tense against her and he ran his other hand through his hair again before he nodded and started forward again. 

When they got to the table, he turned to look at her fully. Marinette realized it was the first time she'd seen his eyes since arriving at the restaurant. 

“You stop the room in that dress," he admitted shyly as he helped her into her seat. 

The sincerity in his voice took her by surprise. He was smiling at her. Not the same one he'd given her behind the bar, or while he was onstage. That one was brittle and daring. This was a shy, careful, guarded thing. Like a secret, meant only for her. He had complimented her dress, but his eyes were on hers. The way he was looking at her made her heartbeat pick up and she broke eye contact with him as she felt a blush creep up her cheeks. 

Nerves, she realized, but she couldn’t pinpoint why she was nervous. Maybe just because he was. If she could put him at ease, maybe they could forget how awkward their situation was. 

She glanced down at his feet before she smirked at him. "Hard to compete with your converse." 

He glanced down as well and seemed surprised to find that he was, in fact, still wearing teal converse. She waited for him to respond. She'd follow his lead on how the night would go, how he wanted to play this. 

When his eyes met hers again, their softness had slipped away, replaced by a subtle distance. Like he had mentally stepped back behind the bar. Now that she could see it, she regretted teasing him, making him feel like he needed to retreat, but she had to admit she was relieved they were back on familiar ground. 

"I'll have you know, these are designer." His tone was flippant, and she laughed at his mock offense. 

He sat across from her and she caught the tinge of pink on his cheeks and his small, satisfied smile before he picked up the menu and ducked behind it. 

She picked her own up only to set it right back down when an idea struck her. She pulled down Luka’s makeshift shade and caught him staring down at the tablecloth, blushing fiercely. She couldn’t help the smile that started to spread across her face. “I have an idea.” 

He glanced up guiltily before he laid the menu down, abandoning his attempt to hide.

“How about we have a great time tonight, just you and me, right? No pressure, just like we're at the bar.” 

He nodded and waited for her to continue her thought. 

“But here's the idea.” 

He leaned forward, smirking, and gestured for her to please continue. She couldn’t help but smile back. They were fellow conspirators, now. “We tell them later that it was absolutely awful and we hated every minute of it." 

He was chuckling now, softly, his eyes alight with the mischief she was familiar with, but hiding some emotion she couldn't guess. “Why would we do that?” 

"I mean, they already tricked us, right? Why shouldn't they have a taste of their own medicine? You said it yourself, they'll never know the difference." 

She could tell he was pretending to mull it over as he tapped his fingers against his lips. He knew he was caught, but continued his performance, adding in a not-so-subtle contemplative eye roll. Finally, he dropped the act and grinned at her.

"Sounds like a plan." 


	11. Chapter 11

Marinette was gasping for air, bracing herself against the table with tears in her eyes as she laughed at his story. 

“This is one hundred percent true, I swear.” Luka was barely managing to hold back his own laughter. “Juleka, tiny little Juleka, she looks up at me, those big eyes just brimming with tears, and she says… she says-” He had to pause to get his voice back under control to do a good impression of a despondent three-year-old Juleka. “‘I thought we were pirates.’” 

Marinette shook her head and waved at him to stop. Her laughter wasn’t even making noise anymore.

“And Mom and I just share this look, you know, like, we can’t let her cry. So Mom just starts up, ‘Aye, that we are, matey, and that there brother of yours has been a downright scallywag. Walk the plank with ye!’” He squeezed an eye shut and waved a crooked finger at her, exactly the way his mom had. 

Marinette apparently had enough air in her lungs to eke out, “Oh, God, what’d you do?” 

He shrugged. “I let Jules shove me in the Seine and pretended to be eaten by sharks.” 

Marinette snorted and leaned forward to hide her face in her arms. He smiled as her shoulders shook. Making her laugh was positively addictive. 

When her laughter finally petered down to giggles, she sat back up and wiped her eyes. “So where’s Juleka now?” 

Luka paused to think. Jules moved around so much nowadays that it was hard to keep track of her. “Milan, I think. I’ll see her soon, though. She’ll probably be home for Paris Fashion Week.”

“You two seem close.” Marinette sighed. “You must miss her.” 

Luka nodded wistfully. He did miss Jules. But she was following her dream, and she was really good at what she did. He was incredibly proud of her. 

Marinette picked at a flower on the mesh sleeve of her dress before she looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Do you think she’s been booked for Fashion Week yet?” 

“Hmm? Oh. I don’t know. The designers she’s worked with are pretty attached to her, and a lot of them are pretty unconventional. If they haven’t been invited, there’s a good chance she’ll sit it out.” 

“What about a designer she hasn’t worked with yet?” Marinette asked shyly. It hit Luka then what she was asking. 

“You would want Jules in your show?” 

Marinette nodded. “I’m a huge fan. It would be a dream come true if she’d walk in something I made.” 

“I mean, I can’t speak for her, but I could probably ask her if she could give you a call, see if she thinks you’re a good fit, all of that.” 

Marinette’s head looked like it was about to fall off her shoulders as she started nodding vigorously. “Yes. Yes, absolutely. I mean, if you’d be okay with that, I don’t want to ask too much of you, but if you could, that would be so, so amazing.” 

Luka chuckled at her gushing and handed over his phone so Marinette could input her number. He snuck a glance at her while she had her head bent over his phone and smiled. It reminded him so much of the first time he’d seen her, with her head bent over her sketchbook. 

She handed his phone back with a brilliant smile. He stared at her number incredulously. Even if it was just to give it to Juleka, Little Blue had given him her number. He shook his head to clear it before his thoughts wandered too far and tucked his phone back in his pocket. 

“So, I know it’s top secret and all, but can I ask what your collection is like?”

“My collection?” 

“Sure.” Luka looked down to spear one of the carrots that were left on his plate. He’d been too distracted by Marinette in that dress, Marinette laughing with him, Marinette talking with her hands, Marinette’s eyes so focused on him, that he honestly couldn’t remember the meal he’d just had. Something with carrots, apparently. “It’s a spring line, right? So what was your inspiration? Or what were you going for when you were designing?” 

For some reason, she started blushing down at the table and refused to meet his eyes. She pushed a potato across her plate with her fork. “It’s still top secret,” she muttered. 

Touchy subject, then. He shoved the carrot in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. He’d seen her embarrassed like that one other time. When he’d teased her about Adrien. So maybe she designed her collection with Adrien in mind? It would make sense; he was the one making the decision, and if she had catered to him, her designs were more likely to be chosen. But she didn’t strike him as the type to cater to anyone else’s taste but her own. Well, he was still curious, but he wouldn’t push. 

There was a pause between them as Marinette recovered. 

“Can I interest you in any dessert tonight?” The server came to his rescue. 

He glanced at Marinette. She was still lost in her own thoughts, and Luka didn’t have much of a sweet tooth. He shook his head before he smiled up at the server. “No, I don’t think so.” 

“I’ve got this for you, then, no rush, just whenever you’re ready.” The server laid a single check on the table and walked away. Luka reached for it, but Marinette snatched it away. He blinked at her, surprised at her quick reflexes. 

“It’s your celebration dinner,” he protested lamely. 

“But it’s my fault you were dragged into this.” 

“Trust me, I didn’t mind at all.” 

“You didn’t?” 

He was vaguely aware of the rhythm of his heartbeat in his ears. “Of course not. I’m glad I got to spend some time with you.” 

She dogeared the corner of the check back and forth as she hesitated. While she thought, he plucked the paper from her fingers easily. She sighed in defeat. 

“Next time, then.” She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted and his heart thrilled at the mere mention of a next time. 

He managed to nod before he focused on the check in his hands. He really shouldn’t get his hopes up; she and Adrien were going to be working together soon, after all. And he’d be crazy if he couldn’t see this amazing, brilliant, talented, beautiful woman right under his nose. But that’s all the more reason Luka was thankful for the unexpected time with her. If she wanted to be around him again, at all, for any reason, he’d jump at the chance. 

As he settled the check, a light tapping started on the window outside. Luka patted his jacket to make sure he still had it. Good thing he’d remembered to grab it after all. When he looked back up, Marinette was resting her chin in her hand, watching the rain streak down the glass. A crash of thunder resounded in the distance. 

She didn’t seem to notice his eyes on her. He didn’t even need his guitar; her song started up in his head, looping through the same notes he’d been hearing since the first time he played for her. 

_ A summer rain is passing over  
_ _ And it feels like a dream  _

He smiled. He already knew he wouldn’t be able to capture this moment, this feeling, later when he had a pen in his hand. Having her around was some sort of lightning rod for his music. His fingers twitched along with the melody. 

She blinked and turned to look at him again. He wasn’t even embarrassed to be caught staring. 

“What?” She wiped at the corners of her lips self-consciously, completely unaware that she was drawing his attention directly to them. “Do I have something on my face?” 

He shook his head, still smiling, and stood, offering her a hand up. She took it hesitantly. 

When she went to step out of her seat, the heel of her shoe got trapped on one of the legs of the chair, tipping her forward into him for the second time of the night. She headbutted his chest, and his arm wrapped around her protectively. 

Even by accident, having her in his arms was overwhelming. As soon as she had sorted herself out, apologizing profusely the entire time, he stepped away from her. His hand found its way to his hair instead of splayed across the bare skin of her back. 

That dress was going to kill him. 

He had felt the strong muscles between her shoulder blades moving as she had pushed away from him to rebalance. He grit his teeth and tried to shake off the thoughts that were invading. Thoughts of soft skin and taut muscles and raven hair spilling over bare shoulders and—God, he was in serious trouble. 

She was muttering to herself, something about high heels being torture devices, when he had the presence of mind to interpret speech again. In a daze, he offered her his arm like he had before. Not that having her hand brushing against his side with every step was helping his racing heart, but at least it would keep her from tripping again. 

When they got outside, Luka realized there was a glaring problem that his addled brain hadn’t quite worked out. Marinette seemed to realize it at about the same time he did. 

It was pouring. Sheets of rain pelted the pavement. The awning above their heads was barely holding its own against the wind. A flash of lightning lit the sky for an entire second, and Luka felt the resulting crack of thunder rattling through his ribs. This was more than a rainstorm. This was all out war across the sky. And Marinette had no way home. 

He looked down at her. At the last peal of thunder, she had clutched his arm a little tighter. The next one made her jump sideways into him. He bit the inside of his lip as he thought. They needed to be back inside, but waiting awkwardly inside the restaurant for who knew how long it would take for the storm to pass wasn’t an ideal option. He could call her a cab and run home himself. But they'd have to wait for the cab to get there anyways, which put them back at square one. 

"Hand me your shoes." 

She didn't quite look up at him, more directed her sideways glance at him. He opened the jacket he had brought with him and spread it over her shoulders. 

"We'll have to make a run for it."

"Run where?" 

"My place. It's not far." 

She looked out skeptically at the driving rain before she slipped her heels off one by one and handed them to him. He clutched them tightly in one hand and took her hand with the other. 

“Ready?” 

She nodded and flipped his jacket up over her head. His hand tightened around hers. The next crack of thunder was their starting pistol, and he took off running with Marinette following close behind. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette discovers that being alone with Luka is a lot more comfortable than she thought it'd be.

As they burst into Luka’s apartment, they were both laughing from the exhilaration of running through the storm. And they both looked like they’d decided to jump in the Seine with all their clothes on. As Luka leaned back against the door to catch his breath, Marinette noticed that every inch of his button down was sticking to him now and left very little to the imagination. 

His hair was plastered to his face, and she watched a little drop of rain work its way down his cheek to his neck. It paused in the hollow of his throat before it disappeared into his shirt. She gulped. She was alone with Hot Bartender. At Hot Bartender’s apartment. Trouble, this was trouble, was what this was. 

He cracked an eye open before he straightened up and grinned at her. “Whose idea was that again?” he asked. 

She smacked his shoulder playfully. “You said it wasn’t far!” 

“It’s not, except in the case of torrential rain, then apparently it becomes a lot farther.” He chuckled and peeled himself off the door. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” He set her heels down on the entryway tile, kicked out of his converse, and pulled off his wet socks before he padded down the hall. He disappeared to the left and a light turned on. 

She clutched the soaked jacket around her shoulders a little tighter. It didn’t do much for warmth anymore, but at least it kept the air off her exposed back. 

Luka left the light on when he left the room and disappeared again into a door straight ahead. Another light flicked on, although the source seemed farther back in the room. She heard him opening and closing drawers, apparently looking for something. 

While she waited, her eyes traveled around his space. Minimal, to say the least. Off to her right looked like his living room. He had a dark blue two-seater couch in front of a trunk that he seemed to be using as a coffee table. In place of a television, he had an expensive-looking sound system with a stack of CDs on either side. His guitars were lined up in stands along the back wall, with an old poster of Jagged Stone and a pick collection hanging over them. 

The living room led out to what looked like a balcony. She knew they were close to the river and she wondered if the balcony overlooked the water. 

Luka returned, then, with a towel and a change of clothes for her. 

“These should fit. The bathroom’s that door on the left. I’ll call you a cab if you want.” 

She took the pile of dry things from him and he reached forward to slip his wet jacket off her shoulders. As he leaned in, she caught the barest hint of his cologne still clinging to him, mixed with the rain they had run through. She looked up at him. His ocean eyes were on her, and he frowned as she started shivering. 

There was another huge clap of thunder outside that seemed to shake the building. She jumped and reached out to him, clutching unconsciously at his arm that was still half-around her. He jolted when she touched him, but didn’t say anything. Despite being just as soaked as she was, his skin was warm to the touch. The thought of getting back out in that weather made her clench her teeth as the chill seeped into her bones. 

“Um, actually… do you mind if I wait here until the storm dies down a bit?” 

He took a step back from her, breaking her grip on his forearm gently, and shook some of the water out of his hair onto the tile as he seemed to consider.

“Sure, no problem.” 

She brushed past him to follow his direction to the bathroom and closed the door after herself. When she looked in the mirror, she almost didn’t recognize herself. Her hair was falling out of her updo in wet strings, and her cheeks were flushed. From the run, she guessed, but that didn’t explain why her eyes looked so bright. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself. Just because Luka was kind enough to let her wait here didn’t mean he wanted anything more. Wait. Why was she disappointed? She didn’t want anything more, either, right? Right. 

She peeled off her wet clothes and wrapped herself in the warm towel, sighing as she snuggled into it. As she pulled the pins out of her hair and started squeezing the water out, she turned her attention to the clothes he had grabbed for her. A white Jagged Stone T-shirt, definitely too small for Luka, but perfect for her, and he had given her a pair of plaid fleece sleep pants. 

She blushed to the roots of her hair when she realized he’d given her a pair of boxer briefs, too. She didn’t know whether to be embarrassed he had been thinking about her wet underwear, or incredibly thankful he had thought ahead for her. She decided on gratitude and slipped everything on. She hung her small pile of wet clothes over the towel bar and paused to take one more deep breath before she opened the door again. 

He was just being nice, she reminded herself. This was a one time thing because they had gotten stuck. She’d leave as soon as the storm died down. She pushed away the small voice in the back of her head that hoped it lasted all night. 

When she walked back out, Luka had already changed and dried off as well. He was sitting on the couch, bent forward over the notebook she’d seen him working in before, humming to himself. 

She leaned over the seat next to him. She didn’t want to break his concentration—after all, she knew how hard it was to get into the creative flow—but she was curious to know what he’d been working so hard on. He’d scribbled through a lot, but there were fragments of what she guessed were lyrics in thin, slanted handwriting. He was playing the notes on the air to his left. His eyes were closed as he tapped his foot and swayed along with whatever rhythm was in his head. 

She bent down to rest her head on her arms on the back of the couch. He hadn’t seemed to notice her yet. But the couch creaked under her weight. He started and turned to look at her. He had his pen in between his teeth, and he took it out and put it back behind his ear instead. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I was just…” She lost her train of thought when she noticed his hair was feathery from being hastily towel-dried. It stuck up on the side. She giggled as she reached out to fix it. “I just wanted to thank you. For the clothes, I mean, and for... not kicking me out.” 

He nodded and ran his fingers back over the spot she had just fixed. Nervous. She’d thought they’d gotten past the nerves of the night. Then again, that was a public restaurant and this was his private space. Great, now she was thinking about being alone with him again. 

She pulled out the logo of her shirt to look at it. “Jagged Stone, huh? He was my favorite when I was younger.”

“Mine, too. I wore that shirt all the time in lycée. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it when I grew out of it.” 

She blushed. His favorite shirt. He’d given her his favorite shirt. Just being nice, just being nice. She repeated the words in her head like a mantra. 

“Is that the top secret song you were working on?” She tried again. 

He hummed in response and looked down at his notebook. He seemed to see something he didn’t like and leaned forward to scratch it out. “It’s been stuck in my head for about a week now. Can’t get it right.” He was muttering more to himself than to her. 

“Can I help?” 

His pen spun over his finger accidentally and dropped to the floor. He paused before he picked it up again and closed the notebook, setting the pen resolutely on top. “I think so.” 

Before she could ask what she could do, she heard a tinny whistling from the kitchen. He stood and made his way over. The whistling stopped as he plucked a kettle off the stove and turned the heat off. Two mugs were ready and waiting, and he filled them with the hot water before he dropped a tea bag in each. 

When he came back over, he handed a mug to her carefully. The smell of chamomile and honey wafted through the steam. She held the warmth between her hands and settled comfortably onto the seat next to him. 

They were both silent for a moment, and lightning flashed outside the balcony door. Far from being frightened by it now, when the thunder rumbled past it made everything cozier. The heat from the mug started to get a little too much and she set it down on the trunk in front of her to cool. 

“So, how can I help?” She turned to face him and crossed her legs on the cushion. 

He chuckled and set his mug down, too. He laid an arm over the back of the couch and crossed his ankle over his knee as he seemed to think. He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again as a blush started to creep over his cheeks. She waited as patiently as she dared. 

“Have you ever met someone…” he started, staring forward at his stack of CDs, “and it’s like you can’t figure out what you ever thought about before you met them?”

She wanted to say yes, she knew exactly what he was talking about, but then she realized that she hadn’t even thought of Adrien once since Luka helped her out of Nino’s car earlier that night. Instead she waited as he seemed to get lost in thought again. 

“This… song in my head, it’s like that.” Finally, his eyes turned to meet hers. “Like I can’t remember any other music I’ve ever heard before.” He dropped his eyes and ran his hand through his hair again. “Sorry, I’m not making much sense.” 

“Well, you still haven’t told me how I can help,” she prompted him gently. 

He chuckled and looked back up at her through the blue tips of his hair. “Don’t let me work on it while you’re here?” 

She blinked back at him. That didn’t sound like helping to her. But she shrugged and reached sideways to grab her mug off the trunk. As she sipped, Alya’s voice popped into her head, rapid-firing questions about how the night had gone. If she ever got wind that Marinette had come back to Luka’s place, there’d be hell to pay. 

“Maybe we should get our story straight?” she asked, reaching out to nudge his leg with her foot. 

“Ah, yes, the horror story.” He smiled as he reached forward for his own mug. When he leaned back, he settled back against the couch comfortably and gestured to let her know she could stretch her legs out. Instead she tucked her toes under his thigh for warmth. He laughed and sipped at his tea. She was surprised at how comfortable she felt with him.

Lightning flashed outside again and it drew his attention. He leaned forward to grab his pen. 

"That's what I'll tell Alya: you're a workaholic," she teased. He glanced over at her and scribbled a line before he dropped the pen. 

"It wouldn't be much of a lie," he admitted with a sigh as he leaned back again. "I'm only ever here to sleep and eat." 

Marinette nodded thoughtfully. That sounded familiar. And for her it'd only get worse as Fashion Week got closer. Starting tomorrow, she didn't even know if she'd be home at all. Ironic that she wasn't even spending her last free night at her apartment. But being here, with Luka, relaxing with him, felt more like home than her apartment had in a long time. 

Tentatively, she stretched one of her legs across his lap. He rested his palm on her shin, and his fingers squeezed her calf muscle absent-mindedly. It drew a small moan from her and she felt him tense. When she glanced up at him guiltily, he smirked before he squeezed again. 

“Jules always says the worst part about wearing heels is the calf workout.” 

“She’s not wrong.” 

His fingers worked around the tender muscle in steady circles. Marinette groaned again and he chuckled. 

"How am I supposed to tell Alya I hated anything about you if you keep doing nice things for me?"

He half-shrugged as he followed the muscle down towards her ankle. "Don't tell her anything?"

"You don't know Alya. If I say nothing, she'll assume the worst." 

"And what's the worst?" 

"That her plan worked and we’re madly in love now.” 

His fingers paused and his brow furrowed. “So tell her that.” She raised her eyebrows, and when he snuck a glance at her he shrugged again. “Steer into it, you know? Make it a joke.” 

Marinette paused to think about it. It could work. Any time Alya pressed her about it, she could technically tell the truth and just make it sound like she was being sarcastic. She wouldn’t have to make up anything about hating Luka, and she could brag about going home with him and all the nice things he had done for her and Alya would never be able to tell if she was joking or not. 

She smiled at the pure genius of the plan. It was far better than just saying she had an awful time and leaving it at that. This way, Alya would constantly be left wondering, in a limbo. And the more time Marinette spent with Luka, the more confused Alya would be. 

“Alright, then.” 

She set her mug back down on the trunk and stretched her other leg across his lap as she settled down to rest her head on the arm of the couch. He quietly resumed his steady pressure on what she hadn’t realized were aching muscles. Occasionally she would feel him lean forward, and she could hear his pen scratching on the paper, but she couldn’t really bring herself to stop him like he had asked. She was too comfortable in the silence between them, only broken occasionally by the receding thunder, to chide him for committing to paper whatever inspiration he had. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder, [here's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KHy9mLJ7enk) the song Luka's "writing"

Luka spun his pen through his fingers as he considered the lines he'd written. Almost there. It was still missing a few pieces, but he'd made a lot of progress. Marinette really was his lightning rod. Line after line had just popped in his head, like it'd been there all along just waiting for him to be listening. 

He turned to look at Marinette, and was surprised to find that while he hadn't been paying attention, she'd fallen asleep. Her legs were still stretched over his lap, but she had turned onto her side. Her head was pillowed on her hands and her neck was at an awkward angle. No way she was comfortable like that, but she looked perfectly content. Her eyelashes fluttered as she dreamed. 

He looked back out the balcony door. The rain had long since stopped. He sighed. As much as he had loved having her around, she would probably prefer to be home. He should wake her and call her a cab. He slid out from under her as carefully as he could and lowered her legs down to the couch. 

He crouched in front of her and brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face. “Marinette?” he asked softly. She didn’t respond. Out cold. He sighed again. If she was going to sleep here, it wouldn’t be on the couch. 

He slid one arm behind her shoulders and the other behind her knees. As he lifted her into his arms, she woke up just enough to wrap an arm around his neck. Her fingers tangled in his hair. He couldn't help the small shiver that ran through him. Her touch electrified him every single time. 

He shifted a bit to stand as smoothly as he could. As he started walking towards his bedroom, she nuzzled into his shoulder. 

“You smell good,” she mumbled into his collarbone. He chuckled quietly and chose to focus on the task at hand instead of her lips being against his skin.

As he went to lower her down to the bed, her grip tightened on his hair. She must've felt like she was falling. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. Her grip relaxed and he set her down easily. It took him a minute to untangle her fingers. He set her hand down beside her when he had accomplished it. She hummed happily and settled onto her side, fast asleep again. 

Luka paused to look at her. If anyone had told him that in a little over a week, someone could steal his heart so completely, he would’ve rolled his eyes and written them off. But here she was, the unwitting thief, her lips curved into a small smile even as she slept, her dark hair fanned across his pillow, his favorite shirt clinging to her like it had always been hers. 

He shook his head as he turned away and turned the light out as he left the room. Of course he would fall for someone who was in love with someone else. A joke. He had honestly suggested that Marinette make a joke out of them being together. He smacked his forehead a few times as he walked back to the couch and sat heavily, covering his eyes with his hand. It had been an amazing night with her. And he would have to pretend it didn’t mean anything to him.

His phone started to buzz insistently on the kitchen counter where he had apparently left it earlier before he had forgotten all about it. He dragged himself off the couch again to grab it. Sheila was calling. 

“Yeah?” he asked as he answered. 

“Luka, thank God you answered. I know you have tonight off, but we’re slammed here. Is there any way you can come in?” Sheila was practically shouting over the noise in the background. 

His first thought was of Marinette waking up alone in an unfamiliar place. “I… can’t.” 

“Wait. Hang on a second.” 

There was rustling on Sheila’s end, like she was holding the phone against her chest as she speed-walked somewhere. 

“Okay,” she was breathless when she came back on, “tell me everything. How’d it go? Is she there? What happened?” 

Luka opened and closed his mouth several times before his brain caught up to Sheila’s whirlwind. “How?” was all that came out. 

“What do you mean, ‘how?’” 

Luka pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes. Marinette’s here. How did you know?” 

He felt Sheila hedging on the other line. “I mean, it’s not that hard to put together, is it? You’ve been moping around all week, she comes in today and talks to you, and now you can’t come in to work? Pretty obvious she asked you out.” 

“Uh huh. You're telling me you had nothing to do with us being set up?” 

A pause on her end. “Look, all I did was suggest the restaurant.” 

Luka leaned back against the counter. “The restaurant within walking distance to my apartment.” 

“I figured maybe she’d have one too many, need a place to crash, one thing leads to another…” Luka knew she was shrugging. 

“How’d you know I’d even offer? I could’ve bailed on her.” 

“Sweetheart, how long have we worked together?” 

Luka’s face flamed. She had a point. At the very least he would’ve made sure she got to her apartment safely. 

“So…?” 

“So what?” Luka asked irritably. 

“Did you tell her?” 

He hid his face behind his hand. What didn’t that woman know? It was like working with a human lie detector. “I tried. It didn’t… come out right.” 

“What do you mean?” 

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, briefly remembering Marinette’s giggle as her fingers had ruffled through the same spot. “I told her I couldn’t get the song out of my head. But she doesn’t know it’s her song.” 

He heard a few dull thunks, like Sheila was tapping the phone against her forehead. If he'd been there, she probably would've flicked him. “You’re hopeless, you know that?” 

He nodded. Yeah, he was. He heard some yelling in the background on Sheila’s end. 

“Okay, I gotta go. We’ll manage tonight without you, but you’ll make it up to me later, right?” 

“Sure.” 

She hung up on him without any further goodbyes. He glanced back at the dark bedroom before he tossed his phone gently over to the couch. He walked over and grabbed his acoustic from its stand and gathered his notebook and pen. The song was almost finished. If he could just get the rest out of his head and onto paper. Get it right. Maybe he could convince himself that he could be friends with Marinette. 

He went out on the balcony to avoid waking Marinette. Besides, he did his best thinking when he was facing the water. He had a lawn chair perpetually set up out there for that specific reason.

He tucked his pen behind his ear, flipped the notebook open on his leg to the page with his nearly finished lyrics, and began playing Marinette’s melody. The notes were a matter of muscle memory by now. He started singing softly to the tune he had hummed for her on stage. 

_A summer rain is passing over  
_ _And it feels like a dream  
_ _I could run and look for shelter  
_ _But you hold onto me_

 _I’m under your skies  
_ _I’m caught in your eyes  
_ _Don’t you know you stop the room  
_ _And all that I can see is you  
_ _I’m standing where the lightning strikes,  
_ _I know this doesn’t happen twice_

He paused. That’s where he was stuck. There was a transition missing there. He made a note of it and looped back a few lines to get back into the flow. Actually, he liked that. After the missing transition, he could repeat those lines. He made another note. 

_So before the storm has passed,_   
_I just want to ask  
Can we make this moment last? _

He played a few notes idly, trying to find what came after that. But Sheila’s voice popped into his head instead. Hopeless. He underlined the last bit. The storm had been the perfect opportunity. He had tried to find the words and utterly failed. Now that he had the words, the moment had passed. He probably wouldn’t get a chance like that again. He took a deep breath before he closed the notebook and set the pen back behind his ear. Getting frustrated wouldn’t help anything. 

Instead he leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and rested his hand over the strings, quieting his mind to listen for the river below. He had to have patience. With the song, with himself. He may be hopelessly in love with Marinette, but that didn't mean he was hopeless. Somehow, he'd get a second chance and he'd tell her then. 

His shoulders started to droop as he relaxed. He had a vague thought that he should probably go back inside, but he liked the way the air out here felt after the storm. Cool and clear. He’d go back inside in a minute. For now, he was content to listen to the river lapping gently against its embankments in the distance.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette wakes up in Luka's bed and refuses to let him sleep on the tiny couch.

Marinette woke with a start. The room was dark, but she knew instantly it wasn't hers. The bed was too low to the ground, and the coverlet she was on top of was darker than hers. A brief, muddled memory came back to her of strong arms and a quiet chuckle. Luka. She sat up and looked around. He wasn't there. 

Of course he wasn't there, she chided herself. He was probably still out on the couch. 

She stood and made her way quietly down the hall to look for him. But he wasn't on the couch. He wasn't anywhere in the small apartment. 

"Luka?" she called. She walked around the couch and noticed his notebook was gone. A gust of wind from the balcony drew her in that direction and she heard a soft snore. 

When she went to investigate, she found Luka sitting upright in a lawn chair off to the side, clutching his guitar. His head was leaned back and he was definitely asleep. His breathing was deep and even except for a quiet snore on every third or fourth breath. 

She hugged herself as the wind from over the river blew through her. The night had turned chilly after the storm. He didn't even have a blanket. 

She touched his arm gently, trying not to startle him, but he jolted awake anyways.

He looked around, confused, before he seemed to figure out what had happened. When he noticed the guitar was still in his hands, he strummed the strings one by one and seemed satisfied with the sound before he ran his fingers around the seams of the wood body, inspecting it with a careful eye. Then he sighed in relief and leaned back again, scrubbing a hand over his eyes to try to wake up. 

"Why were you out here?" Marinette asked. 

He shrugged. "Must've drifted off." He yawned like a lion before he pulled himself upright with a grunt of effort. She moved out of the doorway so he could follow her inside and shut the door. "What time is it?" 

"I don't know." 

He yawned again as he set his guitar back into its stand. When it subsided, he blinked at her before he seemed to remember something. He ducked back outside and returned with his notebook curled in his hand. 

"Were you working on your song again?" 

"Mhmm." He set it down absent-mindedly and flopped sideways onto the couch. He was too tall for it—the couch was a little over half his height—and his legs were still stretched out across the floor. 

“Luka, hey.” Marinette shook his arm. “You can’t sleep here, either, come on.” 

“‘S fine,” he mumbled. 

“No, it’s not. Come on, get up.” She pulled at his arm to try to get him to stand back up. 

He opened a bleary eye to look up at her. Something in her face made him start laughing quietly, and he offered her a hand in response. She took it and tugged but he was like an anchor. She couldn’t budge his tired weight. He laughed again and tightened his hand around hers to pull himself up. He paused when he was sitting again and leaned his head back against the couch. He kept a loose hold on her hand, though. 

“Can’t go back there,” he muttered. 

“Sure you can. It’s just a few steps. I’ll help you.” 

He shook his head back and forth twice. “Can’t. You have the bed.” 

She rolled her eyes at him. “Honestly, that’s what you’re worried about?” 

When he opened his eyes again, she could see his answer. Yes, he was worried about it. It bothered him, somehow. More than he wanted to let on, but he was too tired to guard himself. His eyes closed again and he sighed, frowning slightly. 

Heat rose to her cheeks. If it had been such a problem for her to be in his bed, he should’ve left her on the couch. 

“Fine, then I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

He shook his head again, a tired little flop back and forth. She let her breath out in a huff. Stubborn and tired wasn’t a great combination. 

“Well you’re not sleeping out here. And if you don’t want me out here either, then you have to come back there with me.” 

She couldn't tell if he was thinking it over or if he had just fallen back asleep. But then he shrugged half-heartedly and let her pull him up to a standing position. She slipped her arm under his to support him since he seemed ready to collapse. His back was a wall of lean muscle under his thin t-shirt and she gulped. Maybe this wasn’t the smartest idea. 

It’s one night, she reminded herself. And he was tired enough that she could get him settled and be on her way home if she wanted. She looked down at herself. At who knows what time of night, in his clothes, with only a pair of high heels to carry with her. She blushed again as she realized that at this point, she might as well stay. 

When they got back to the bedroom, Luka pulled away from her to tug his shirt off before he tossed it casually into what she assumed was a closet. He didn’t look at her as he fell into the bed and kicked under the coverlet. 

He lay on his back and tucked an arm over his head and underneath the pillow, sighing as he relaxed. She noticed a tattoo on his chest that looped back to the top of his shoulder. She couldn’t quite make out what it was, but it was dark against his pale skin. 

She took a deep breath and slid under the blanket next to him. The chill from outside was still clinging to him. Another yawn overtook him and he shivered before he pulled the blanket up over him a little more. 

"I can't believe you fell asleep out there. I hope you don't get sick." 

"Nah. Not the first time." He stretched and she caught herself ogling him as his abs flexed before she flicked her eyes away. "I like the water," he continued as he settled back down, "reminds me of home." 

She curled onto her side to face him and he turned his head to look at her. Her curiosity overtook her shyness and she reached out to trace the ridges of the lines on his chest under her fingertips, trying to form a picture of his tattoo in her mind. Lots of loops and swirls. "Is that what this is? Water?" 

He glanced down and hummed. “It's a snake. Always wanted one. Tattoo was cheaper." 

"I always wanted a hamster." Marinette giggled. 

He laid a hand over hers. "Could have both." The edges of his lips curved up in a smirk as his eyes started to close.

"Don't snakes eat hamsters?" 

"If it gets loose." His voice was fading as he fought against how tired he was, but he still managed to sound sarcastic. His heartbeat was steady under her palm, and his hand started to press down on hers as it was weighed down by sleep. She scooted closer to him so her arm wasn’t as extended. Her movement made his eyes flutter open briefly. 

He gave her that smile again. The soft, secret, honest one. His fingers wrapped around hers to hold her hand as his eyes closed again. 

It hit her then. It wasn’t the idea of sharing the bed with her that had bothered him. Everything he’d done throughout the night was to make sure she was comfortable and cared for. At the restaurant, he had been most worried about her, even though he was nervous. He had opened his home to her, had even offered her the comfort of his bed while he fully expected to spend the night on the cramped couch. If she hadn’t insisted, he probably still would’ve. All for her. 

How could he be so thoughtful and kind to someone he barely knew? If it had been anyone else Alya had decided to set her up with, it probably would’ve been a disaster. And yet, Luka had managed to make it perfect.

“Thank you, Luka,” she whispered.

“Mmm?” 

She shook her head. “Just… thank you.” 

He squeezed her hand in response. She could tell he was falling back asleep by the slowing rhythm of his chest rising and falling. She slipped her hand out of his and turned onto her side, facing away from him, to try to get back to sleep herself, but her mind was whirling. Tonight had given her a lot to think about. Tomorrow she’d start working closely under Adrien. It was the opportunity she had dreamed about. The chance to spend more time with him, to tell him how she felt about him, maybe even to find the courage to ask him out. 

But as she felt herself starting to match the rhythm of Luka’s steady breathing beside her, she started wishing she’d be spending more time with him instead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...okay, I think that's the last trope... maybe... this is still my pantsing experiment, so characters are still driving... but I know where they're going, I promise. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning, and Luka realizes Marinette might've accidentally overslept

When Luka woke up, he had a strange weight pressed against his shoulder and his side. All it took was a single glance down and he had it figured out. Sometime during the night, Marinette had crept over to his side of the bed. Her head was pillowed on his shoulder, her arm was resting across his bare stomach and that must be her leg that was pinning his knee to the bed. To top it off, his arm had apparently come to rest around her shoulders. 

She was still asleep, and the ambient morning light filtering into the room made her seem like she was a dream he was having. Blurry around the edges, like if he squinted too hard she would evaporate. His entire room smelled like her, though, and she radiated heat next to him. She was real, and she was really cuddled into his side. 

He had to remind himself that it had to have been unconscious on her part. But he also had to admit she fit perfectly against him. His mind couldn’t help but wander to waking up with her like this on other mornings. In other circumstances. He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze before he realized that he could see her so clearly because of the mid-morning light that lit the apartment. 

Was she supposed to be at work today? Had she said? And if so, what time was she supposed to be there? What time was it now? 

As much as he hated to wake her, to lose this moment with her, if this was her first day working on her collection, then it was important to her. 

He shook her shoulders gently. “Hey, Marinette. It’s morning.” 

He felt her face scrunch against his chest and she nuzzled into him, tightening her grip on his hip. “Five more minutes, Maman,” she mumbled. Her lips grazed against his skin. He stopped himself from thinking of other places her lips could graze before he shook her again. 

“Marinette? Come on, you need to wake up.” 

A huff of breath fanned across his chest. “I’m awake, I promise. I’ll be down soon,” she grouched. 

She was so grumpy and it was actually really cute. He tried to stifle his chuckling and failed. Marinette froze on top of him before she slowly lifted her head and looked up at him.

“Hi,” he said, smiling despite himself. 

He could see her processing the situation before mortification started blooming across her face. She ripped herself off him and sat up a modest distance away, raking her fingers through her hair self-consciously and refusing to look at him. He propped himself up on his elbows to make her feel more at ease. 

“I’m  _ so  _ sorry, I didn’t mean to, I thought you were my body pillow–I mean! Not that you’re my body pillow, but I  _ have  _ a body pillow–at home–and I guess I forgot I wasn’t sleeping at home and that I was sleeping with you–” her eyes went wide and she hid her face in her hands. 

“Next to you! Next to you, I meant, sleeping next to you, because we’re not–I mean, this wasn’t–” He could barely hear her anymore; she started mumbling into her hands. Something about a disaster. 

He reached over to gently pull a hand away from her face. She eyed him suspiciously, then seemed to realize for the first time that he was shirtless and hid her eyes behind her hand again as she started combusting. He squeezed the hand he was holding, trying to reassure her, patiently waiting for her to work through her embarrassment. 

“I am so sorry, Luka,” she finally managed to say, emphasizing each word. 

He squeezed her hand again. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.” 

She shook her head. "That was so over the line." 

"Hey. It's okay." If he wasn't so worried about her getting to work on time he would pull her back down and show her just how okay it was. "I only woke you because I didn't know if you needed to be at work." 

Her hand dropped and the color drained out of her face. "What time is it?"

"I don't know, but I'd guess around 10h."

She jumped off the bed and catapulted towards the door. He sighed and fell back against the pillows once she was out of the room. Good thing he woke her up. Terrible he had to rush her out the door. He sighed again and stood to follow her. She had gathered her things from the bathroom in her arms and found her phone.

"Alya, can you or Nino come grab me? I overslept and I'm so incredibly late for work and…" She paused to listen to Alya's response. "You are a lifesaver." 

Her eyes flicked towards Luka and she hesitated before she answered what must've been Alya's next question. "Actually… I'm… at Luka's." 

She held the phone away from her ear and winced. Luka could hear Alya squealing all the way across the room. He leaned against the doorframe of his bedroom and crossed his arms, shaking his head before he looked up at Marinette again through his hair. She shrugged at him and brought the phone back to her ear. 

"Yeah, yeah, details later, you got it. I'll text you the address." She smiled as she hung up and typed out a text. "She'll be here in a few," she said to Luka. He nodded back at her. 

Her eyes fell down from his face and she blushed furiously as she purposefully looked away. She hugged her dress from last night to her chest and her eyes started to flick around his apartment, anywhere but at him. He looked down. Still shirtless. Apparently an issue. He ducked behind the door to grab his shirt from last night and pull it on. 

When he came back out, she had wandered over to his pick collection. As he watched, she plucked one off the wall to look at it closer. He smiled. He knew exactly which one she had, from a Jagged Stone concert he went to when he was 15. Also the first pick he collected. There must've been 30 picks in that frame and she chose that one. 

“You should take that with you today,” he said as he walked up, gesturing with his head to the pick in her hand, “for luck.” 

Her hand closed around it. “Is it some sort of lucky charm?” 

He smiled and nodded. 

He should probably tell her it was lucky because he had it in his pocket on the day they talked for the first time. It had randomly teetered off the wall before work that day and instead of leaving it on the floor, he had picked it up and thought to himself that he would remember to put it back later. Later turned out to be after she had promised to come see him play that night, when he ran home to grab his equipment. As he had set it back into place, he’d had a distinct thought that maybe that pick falling off the wall was some sort of sign. But he had shrugged it off and laughed at himself.

He thought about it again as she turned to him, clutching what was apparently the luckiest pick he had ever owned. There must’ve been 30 picks in that frame. And she chose that one. It was like something in the universe was screaming at him to take the hint. Marinette beamed up at him. 

Lean down, Luka. Kiss her now. Before she runs out the door. Tell her how much you enjoyed spending time with her. Ask her if she wants to go out again. For real, this time. Say. Something. 

He opened his mouth and at the same time her phone chimed in her hand. He closed his mouth again and grit his teeth as Marinette’s attention was redirected. 

“Alya’s here.” She ran over to the entryway and stooped to grab her heels. He followed and reached around her to open the door for her. “I’ll see you later,” she said in a rush, before she gave him a quick kiss on his cheek and was out the door. 

Wait. What just happened? 

He touched his fingertips to his cheek and watched as she ran away. It had been so fast he definitely could’ve imagined it. She didn’t look back. Did she even realize she’d kissed him goodbye? 

As he closed the door in a daze and turned back to his now empty apartment, his eyes flicked to the two mugs that were still set out. His notebook lying open. The missing pick in his collection. All the signs that everything from last night had actually happened. That this morning had happened. That kiss had just happened. 

He sank to the floor and braced his back against the door. His fingers hadn’t left his cheek. 

Juleka. He needed to call Juleka. He needed someone to talk this through with. Preferably someone who wouldn’t smack him upside the head like Sheila was sure to. Come to think of it, he should probably call Sheila, too, just to tell her he’d be useless today at work. 

He groaned and lifted himself to his feet. He found his phone tucked into the couch cushions from where he had thrown it and then laid on top of it last night. To his surprise, he already had several texts. From Nino. 

The first asked if he’d gotten the email with their agreement attached. The second apologized for Alya’s treachery and assured him Nino hadn’t known she was planning to leave them there. And the third asked if he’d be free anytime soon to record the demo, if he still wanted to. 

Luka started to text him back that he hadn’t had a chance to look at the agreement yet. Before he sent it, though, he caught sight of his notebook again. Maybe he couldn’t tell Marinette how he felt in so many words. But words weren’t really his strong suit. Music was simpler and more effective. 

He erased the text he was about to send and typed up another one instead. 

_ L: I’m working on something but it’s not finished yet. Record when it’s ready? _


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette's first day on the job doesn't go quite like she expected

As soon as Marinette closed the car door after herself, she had a sudden realization. 

“Oh my God, Alya...I just kissed him.” 

Alya grinned as she looked Marinette up and down. “ _Just_ kissed him, huh? So what’s with the outfit?” 

Marinette looked down at herself. While she was rushing out the door, she had entirely forgotten she was wearing Luka’s clothes. She groaned and held up her crumpled dress. Neither option was a great look for her first day. “This is a total disaster! What am I supposed to do?” 

Alya backed out of her spot and started driving towards _Gabriel._ “What you do is you throw those heels on and you rock it. It’s fashion, right?” 

“I guess....” 

“You’re the designer, you make the trends now. You never know, the ‘day after’ look might be the next big thing.” Alya flashed a smirk over at Marinette as she executed a turn. 

“Day after…?” She looked down again. “Oh. My. God. Alya, I didn’t–I mean, we didn’t–I mean–nothing happened!” 

“Girl, chill. You’re single, he’s single. It’s no big deal.” 

“We just slept together!” 

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out.”

Marinette groaned again and leaned down to rest her head on her knees. There was no version of this conversation that ended in her favor. Luka’s voice popped in her head. Steer into it, he’d said, but she just couldn’t. She’d have to set the record straight when she was in a better position to explain. She couldn’t let Alya think Luka was some one night stand. Whatever happened between them last night was… something else. Something more. 

“Do you think you’ll see him again?” 

“Can we not talk about this right now?” Marinette grumbled down at her feet. That was a minefield of a question and she didn’t want to go anywhere near it. Alya reached over to grab her hand and gave it an apologetic squeeze. 

“I’m glad it went well, at least,” Alya said. 

Marinette sighed as she straightened up. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest. She started to smile as she thought back to racing through the rain with him, holding his hand the entire time. 

“Yeah, it really did,” Marinette agreed. Then she snapped her attention to Alya. “Don’t ever do that to me again, though.” 

Alya laughed and pulled her hand back to lay it over her heart. “I solemnly swear I won’t try to hook you up with any other hot bartenders.” 

Marinette’s eyes narrowed at her, but she relented and sighed again as she pulled down the mirror to see what damage control she could do. Her mascara had smudged irreparably and her hair had dried in little flips at her shoulders. There were probably pieces in the back that were sticking up from how she slept. On Luka’s shoulder. She shook her head to refocus. 

She glanced into the cup holder, and thanked Luka’s lucky charm that Alya had a few spare bobby pins tucked away. She took those and pinned her hair back from her face into a half-updo. Then she swiped underneath her eyes to try to fix the mascara situation. If she had some eyeliner or eyeshadow she would just smudge it all together and make it look like she meant it to be that way, but as it was she didn’t have much to work with. 

Next problem, the pants. She leaned back down to try to pinroll the hem. The heels were another small blessing; thank goodness she’d worn a dress last night that went with nude heels. When the sleep pants were cuffed, she hoped they’d look a bit like plaid harem pants. She hated to mess with Luka’s shirt, so she figured she’d just tuck in the front when she got out of the car. 

She’d been careful to keep the pick he’d given her in her hand while she worked and now she looked at it in her palm. There had to be a way to keep it safe until she could give it back to him. She took another bobby pin and clipped it into the hair by her ear. She didn’t miss Alya’s subtle glance her way. 

“What? You’re the one who told me to rock it,” Marinette said, checking the mirror to make sure the pick was secure enough. 

"I didn't say a word." 

"No, you just gave me a look." 

Alya just smiled. 

When they arrived at the fashion house, Marinette thanked Alya and ran inside. Just inside the door she ran into Adrien—literally. She slammed straight into him, and the force of it made him stagger a step backwards. She took a step back from him, holding her head where she’d hit it and looked up at him as an embarrassed flush crept across her cheeks. He straightened his gray suit jacket, but seemed otherwise unaffected by her clumsiness. 

“Marinette, right?” 

She nodded, wincing as she bit her lip to keep from outpouring apologies and excuses. 

“I was just looking for you, actually.” 

“For me?” 

“Well, when you didn’t show up for work this morning, I was worried something bad happened.” He rubbed the nape of his neck self-consciously, then seemed to notice her outfit. “But I guess maybe you just overslept?” 

She nodded. 

“Oh, good.” He let out a sigh of relief. He scanned her outfit again, and she could tell he was noticing what it had been and what she’d turned it into. 

His bright green eyes flicked to the guitar pick in her hair. He pointed to it excitedly. “See, cool details like that are exactly what made me pick your designs. Your inventiveness, turning the ordinary into art. Amazing.” He smiled and she tried not to melt. “Anyways, now that you're here, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you your new workroom.” 

He turned to walk away and Marinette stumbled to keep up with him. He glanced down, but didn’t mention it. They walked a short distance to a large room on the first floor equipped with several sewing machines, long tables, and dress forms. 

“This was a storage unit, but my father said we could use it. You’ll have access to help from the interns upstairs, if you would want it. Anything we already have stored away is available for your use. You’ll just have to run any new costs by me, and I’ll be around to check on your progress, but I’ll try to stay out of your hair as much as I can.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “I’m sorry it’s not more...uh… equipped, but my father considers this a... side project of mine.” 

“A side project?” 

Adrien nodded. “I’ve been asking him to run my own show for years now. He didn’t know anything about the bid for designs I ran, but when I showed him yours, he was really impressed, and he finally agreed.” 

“So this is your shot, too, isn’t it?” she asked timidly. She started feeling the pressure for the first time. Her fingers found the pick nestled in her hair on their own and she traced the edge of it. 

“And I know I picked the right designer for the job.” He positively beamed at her. “If anyone can design their way around a problem, I’m sure it’s you.” He gestured to her outfit again, and she blushed. 

“Well I guess I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said after a moment. “You know where we keep the fabrics, right?” 

“I’ve never been in there,” she admitted. 

“Then allow me.” He grinned and offered her his arm. 

For a moment, she saw Luka standing in his place, making that same gesture. She remembered his fierce nervousness and his shy smile. 

It only lasted a moment, though, and Adrien’s bright grin was in front of her again. She shook her head clear and took his proffered arm and he led her towards the stairs. 

“Anything we already have is available to you, like I said,” Adrien started as they made their way up, “and my father only keeps the best. If I remember your sketches right, I think you’ll find a lot of what you need, but if there’s anything missing, I don’t mind covering the cost.” 

“Wait, what do you mean?” 

He smiled sheepishly. “I did mention this was a side project?” 

“I thought this was being covered by the company?”   
  
“Well, yes and no. I get paid by the company, and I’ll be paying for the show, so…” 

“You’re… paying…” 

“That’s right.” 

Marinette felt dizzy. Her feet felt like they were dragging, getting caught on every step, although Adrien was still moving as if nothing were wrong. 

“I’ve been working for my father for long enough, I think,” Adrien kept talking, oblivious to her meltdown. “I’ve been saving to start my own company. Strike out on my own.” He glanced down at her. “Sorry for involving you in my mutiny.” 

“Mutiny?” 

“I kind of… stole you.” He winced. “Don’t worry, though! You’ll still get paid and everything, like I said, I’ve been saving to start a business, which includes the designer’s salary.” 

“Are you… saying… Wait. You’re saying I don’t work for _Gabriel_ anymore?” 

He winced again and paused as they made it to the landing. “Technically you’re working for me now. And you’ve been promoted to head designer. Well, actually, you’re the only designer so far, so that’s another technicality, but still.” 

Adrien’s arm was the only thing holding her up. Her knees were wobbling, her face was flaming, and her heart was fluttering like a small bird stuck in her throat. Adrien turned to look at her, his face drawn with concern. 

“Are you okay?” 

She nodded at first, then shook her head as she sank to the floor. Adrien helped her sit and crouched next to her. 

“I’m so sorry, Marinette, I’m going about this all wrong, aren’t I?” 

She hiccuped. It was the only noise she seemed to be able to make. But then she caught sight of his socks. Neon green with black cartoon cats. Hidden by his crisp, expensive suit and his shiny black shoes. She started giggling instead. 

Adrien’s brow furrowed as he tried to follow her emotions. The whole thing just seemed ridiculous. She was in her pajamas, sitting on the floor of her previous place of employment with her new boss in front of her, and her new boss was not only Adrien Agreste, but Adrien Agreste wearing neon green socks. And she was giggling like she’d lost her mind. 

Adrien sat back on his heels. He was probably questioning her sanity, or his decision at this point. She gulped in air and tried to quiet herself. She still had his arm in an iron grip. 

“Sorry... it’s just... it’s a lot… to take in,” she fought to say through her giggles. Adrien nodded as if he understood. 

He sat with her until she was quiet again, then helped her back to her feet. She wiped her eyes and tried to straighten herself as well as she could. He didn’t say anything else as he led her to the room where the fabric was stored. 

And all her thoughts disappeared as she took in all the beautiful fabrics in almost every color she could imagine, all stacked against the walls neatly, arranged in sections by weight. Her eyes widened as she went directly to the wall and let her fingers run over the bolts, delighting in all the different materials that were on display. Like being in an expensive fabric store, but so much better because she’d been told she could use anything she wanted in here. 

Her eyes couldn’t seem to find a place they wanted to go to first; they kept bouncing around, finding something new each time. Finally, she was drawn towards a bright blue that matched Luka’s eyes. When she tugged the bolt out enough to let the edge of the fabric lay in her hands, she found it was a gorgeous chiffon, perfect for the dress she’d sketched the first time she’d noticed him. 

When she looked back, grinning like she’d been handed a key to some secret garden, Adrien was still by the door, smiling as he watched her. 

“Glad you like it,” he said. “Should I send someone in to help with cutting yardage?” 

She nodded and turned back to the fabric she’d chosen. She tugged it off the wall with a little effort and brought it over to the table in the center of the room before she started looking around for the other things she needed. Black leather, denim, those should have been easy to find, but she only managed to find a bolt of each, tucked away into forgotten corners. She was throwing instructions to the person helping her in between diving into the shelves. 

At one point, Adrien ducked back in. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard him ask how things were going, but she was hunting for a beautiful, white, flowy fabric that would take easily to dyeing, and she forgot to answer him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette's nervous to get started on her collection and asks Luka for help. Meanwhile, Adrien stops by to check in on her progress.

Luka startled to attention as Sheila snapped a towel in his direction. He shoved his phone in his back pocket guiltily. 

“That is the third time this week I’ve caught you mooning over your phone, lover boy.” Sheila’s tone was stern, but when he looked over at her, she was smiling. She passed the drink he was supposed to be making across the bar to the customer. 

“Sorry.” 

“I don’t mind if you text your girlfriend sweet nothings, but you are still at work.” 

He groaned. “Sheila, I’ve told you-” 

“I know. And I quote, ‘she’s not my girlfriend.’ And _why_ is that?” She crossed her arms and tapped her fingers impatiently. Her nails were painted an unapologetic neon pink this week. 

“I-” 

“That’s right. Because _you_ didn’t make a move. She was in your _bed_ , sweetheart, what better timing do you need?” 

Luka blushed all the way to the tips of his ears and glanced around. The other bartenders were listening intently to the conversation, although they were keeping their eyes on whatever they were doing. He knew everyone knew already—gossip traveled faster than light behind the bar—but Sheila's ribbing had a hard edge that made him uncomfortable. 

“She’s been sending me pictures of fabric and asking my opinion. That’s all,” he muttered. 

Sheila rolled her eyes. “‘That’s all,’ he says.” 

“That is all,” he insisted. Sheila shook her head. 

“Clueless.” She flicked his sternum with a dull thud and walked away. He rubbed at the spot as he glanced around again. Everyone was smiling down at their tasks, which left him with an uneasy awareness of being laughed at behind closed doors. 

He followed Sheila stubbornly to the back office. She sat in the desk chair and pretended to ignore him as he shut the door after himself. He only noticed he had clenched his fist when his nails bit into his palm. He flexed his fingers outwards instead, willing himself to stay calm, before he found the presence of mind to speak again.

“Fine, then. If you know so much, enlighten me.” 

Sheila scoffed. "Why should I? I went out of my way to make sure you had your chance with the girl of your dreams, and you"–she mimed letting go of something and popped her lips sarcastically–"dropped the ball." 

He clenched his fist again as hard as he could and released it slowly along with a deep breath, keeping a lid on his temper. "May I remind you, I didn't ask to be set up with her," he said quietly. His voice still wavered, though. 

She paused before she swiveled the chair to face him. "No, but if you hadn't been, do you think she'd still be texting you those fabric samples?" Her eyebrows arched skeptically. 

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He shut it again with a click of his teeth. 

"And how weird is that, do you think?" Sheila crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair. "A fashion designer, asking a musician for his opinion on fabric. Do you even know anything about her collection? Or anything about fabric?" 

His fingers found their way to his hair. He still didn't know what Sheila was implying, but her tone suggested he should. Sheila's eyes softened. 

"She's thinking about you, you dork. She wants to see you again." 

The shock of Sheila’s words dissipated his annoyance. Little Blue? Thinking of him? "That's not… I mean… you think so?" 

"Is it that hard to believe?" 

His hand jumped to his phone in his back pocket. Another text. Sheila grinned triumphantly.

* * *

Marinette tapped Luka's pick against the table just to have some sort of noise in her ears. It was so _quiet_ in this room, away from the everyday bustle of upstairs. She needed to get into the zone and start cutting, start patterning, start _something_. But instead, she was just frozen, flipping through her sketchbook to try to get some sort of motivation. The fabric she’d chosen sat beside her in an unseemly heap, waiting to be molded into the shapes she’d sketched. 

Luka texted her back, responding to her most recent fabric conundrum. She knew he didn’t really know anything about the subtle differences in fabrics—how this one drapes better than the other, the slight texture differences, how one shimmers under the light and the other doesn’t—but texting him felt like being back at the bar, dreaming up her sketches instead of having to make them a reality.

He usually took a while to answer, but this one only took a minute or two. 

_L: hard to tell from the pics. too bad you cant sew at the bar_

She smiled down at her phone. He was teasing, she knew, but she did wish it were possible to drag her sewing equipment over there and be around him again. Things flowed so much easier when she had the background noise in her ears and his calm energy grounding her. She checked the time on her phone. It was about an hour until his show usually started. Maybe if she went to watch him play again she’d get some inspiration back. 

_M: Are you playing tonight?_

His typing bubble popped up, then stopped before it popped up again. 

_L: sheila insists i take the night off_

She looked around the empty room. If he had the night off… 

_M: Would you want to play here instead?_

She bit her lip as she waited for the response. Hopefully he didn’t think she was being too forward, but if he would be willing to hang out and strum a few chords on his guitar while she worked, maybe she could find her motivation. 

A timid knock at the door drew her attention. Adrien was standing in the doorway, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder and his tie loosened. 

“Late night?” 

She watched his eyes flick around the room, taking in all the empty dress forms and the lack of progress. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked, worry creeping into his tone. 

“No! Nothing’s wrong, everything’s fine!” Her voice was too bright, though, and he raised an eyebrow. 

Caught. She sighed. “It’s… quiet... down here. That’s all.” 

He glanced around again, and this time he seemed to notice the lack of windows, the lack of people, the vast emptiness and plainness of the storage-unit-turned-studio. Not exactly a creativity-inducing space. 

“Ah. Well, are you staying any later tonight? I’d hate to leave you here alone.”

“I asked a… friend… ” The word seemed wrong applied to Luka, but she didn’t know what else to call him. ‘Someone I based my collection on and then we went on a forced date, and then I had a really nice time and we’ve been texting since then, and he’s somewhere above an acquaintance, but he’s not a best friend, and he’s also not a boyfriend’ seemed like too much of a mouthful.

She saw the word land on Adrien, though. His brow furrowed and he shrank away from the door. “I guess I’ll leave you to it, then.” 

“No!” She reached forward and he half-turned back to her. “I mean, you don’t have to go, I don’t know if he’ll even be able to come, and then I’ll have to leave because I can’t get anything done when it’s so quiet here, but home isn’t any better, and then we’ll get behind on the schedule and there’s so much to do and-” She clamped a hand over her mouth to stop the outpouring of words. 

He paused, considering, and her phone chimed in her hand. 

“I’ll stay until your friend gets here,” he said decisively, then stepped into the room and hung his jacket on the chair opposite hers. 

She sighed in relief and looked down at her phone. 

_L: be there in 20_

She glanced back up at Adrien and found him watching her curiously. She’d been tapping the pick on the table again unconsciously. 

“Since I’m here, do you need help with anything? I have to admit, I’ve been around this stuff all my life and I’ve never really had the chance to be part of the”–he waved his hands, gesturing to the room–“you know, the project part, the putting pieces together part.” 

“Well there’s not really any pieces…” she trailed off as she looked back at her pile of fabric. It was still the same sad slump on the table it had been before. Adrien’s hand fell over hers. She’d been tapping again. As soon as she stopped, he pulled away. 

“There’s really no need to worry, Marinette, your designs are great.” 

“On paper,” she mumbled as heat crept up her cheeks. 

He smirked and flipped her sketchbook around to face him. “Show me what you’ve got. I might not know much, but I'm a fast learner and maybe talking through it will help.”

She glanced down at the sketch he was looking at. She’d been staring at that one for days, and upside down it finally clicked. She pulled the blue chiffon out from the bottom of the pile. Start at the beginning, she figured. Her first sketch, her first fabric choice, her first glimpse of Luka. She fixed the pick back into her hair for safekeeping. 

Her hands started moving on their own, pinning the light fabric to the nearest dress form, adjusting the fabric so it draped the way she needed it to. She felt rather than saw Adrien shift to start watching her work.

“You’re not cutting anything?” he asked quietly. 

“Not right now. I just want to see how it moves.” How Luka moves, she thought. Luka behind the bar, twisting at the waist to grab a bottle, flattening against the counter so someone else could move past, aware every moment of how he was affecting his surroundings. Luka on stage, his fingers flitting over the fretboard. Luka moving between the tables of the restaurant with her on his arm. Fluid, easy, confident. 

The fabric followed her thoughts. She whirled around the dress form, tacking it into place, until the dress that had been on the paper materialized. She took a step back and Adrien whistled. 

“That was… I mean… how did you do that?” He looked from her sketchbook that was still in his hands up to the form. “You didn’t even look at this!” 

She giggled under his praise and turned away to hide her blush. 

“So now you have to sew it?” 

“Most of this one will be handsewn,” she said, more to herself than to him. “Just in the places I need it to stay put. Everything else will move.” 

She billowed the long skirt out to check that it would catch the air as it walked before she stood back to look at her handiwork. It was still missing something. Her thoughts supplied her with flashes of bloodied knuckles, ripped jeans, and a snake tattoo.

"It's too… pretty." She decided. 

"Isn't that kind of the point?" 

She shook her head. "How would you feel if I rework a few things?" 

He smiled and waved her over to the table. "Talk me through it." 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka arrives at _Gabriel_ and meets Adrien. Meanwhile, Alya has another plan to get Luka and Marinette to spend time together.

Luka adjusted the guitar on his back as he looked up at the fashion house. He'd known Marinette worked at _Gabriel_ , that’s what she’d said when they first met, but the building itself loomed over him. A tall tower of cold gray stone that cast an even colder shadow. He took a deep breath before he reached out for the door handle to let himself in. 

He looked around as he entered and couldn’t help the whistle that escaped him. The lobby was spacious, well decorated, but mostly empty, with a single spiral staircase leading upstairs in the middle of the room. There was a white couch to wait on, and a chandelier above his head, but everything seemed like it was just for show. It was devoid of any warmth or emotion, like walking into a magazine picture, and it made Luka shiver. 

He heard her voice floating across the marbled tile of the lobby, and it echoed up the spiral stairs. Her laughter, from a room ahead and off to the right. His grip tightened on the shoulder strap of his guitar. She asked him to come, he reminded himself. She wanted him to be here. She wanted to see him. His footsteps bounced back to him as he crossed the lobby. But he paused as he neared the open door. 

Adrien Agreste was standing behind Marinette, leaning against a fold-away table in what looked like a sparse workroom as they both discussed the blank wall in front of them. Or at least it looked blank at first until Luka noticed Marinette bend down to rip a piece of paper out of her sketchbook and pin it to the wall.

Adrien had rolled the sleeves of his white button down up to his elbows and unbuttoned it so it hung easily off his shoulders. His jacket and tie were both slung over the chair nearest Luka. Seeing Adrien Agreste in such a casual mood instead of smoldering from a billboard was jarring. Like seeing a lion jaunting through a school cafeteria. Marinette hadn’t seemed to notice, though.

“You want to shred Italian cotton?” Adrien asked incredulously. 

“Well no, not shred,” Marinette parried. “Just distress around the seams. Make it a little rough around the edges, but clean lines.” She was drawing as she spoke, modifying her original sketches in pencil for Adrien to see. She took a step back, considering her revisions. “And the white here will connect over here to the ombre”—she stopped to see if Adrien was following and checked herself—“the red that fades up into pink, this one here.” She pointed to another drawing and Adrien nodded. 

“And the purple, there? That’s next?” 

She shook her head. “No, that one’s the finale. The one Juleka will walk in. And that one goes with this.” She tugged a black leather out of her pile and paired it with a deep purple to show him.

“And you’re… did you say you’re bleaching this?” Adrien took the leather from her and rubbed it between his fingers. 

“I’ll have to see how it works, but I think so, yeah.” 

Adrien let out a slow breath as he processed and set the leather back down on the table. “So then these three looks, they’re in the middle of the show?”

“Exactly. The colors tell the story, you see?” She spread her hands out to indicate the entirety of the wall. Like she could see everything from start to finish. Which, Luka thought to himself, she probably could. Marinette leaned back against the table with Adrien to admire the wall of sketches. 

As Luka watched, Adrien braced himself with a hand behind her on the table and leaned into her space with all the practiced ease of a man who was accustomed to being around women. Who understood the effect he had and how to use it to his advantage. It was a casual enough gesture that he could back away or lean into it without it being awkward either way. 

Any minute now, Luka knew, Marinette would turn and notice how close he was. She would get flustered and start stammering like every other time she’s been nervous. She would blush and hide behind her hands and maybe do that adorable wiggle thing she does when she’s excited. 

He also knew he should walk away. He should let her have this. Her chance. 

Instead, his breath caught in his throat. He was forced to clear it as he struggled not to cough. Marinette heard him and turned away from Adrien and towards the door. Her smile was the warmth he’d been missing as she bounced towards him.

“Luka! Perfect timing.” She bounced up on her toes to greet him with La Bise and grabbed his hand to drag him into the room. His eyes caught on Adrien’s for a split second. Then Marinette was positioning Luka in front of a mannequin and he was very aware of her hands on his waist, his shoulders, his hands. He barely registered that she was asking his opinion of the dress pinned up in front of him. 

He reached out to float the bright blue fabric over his hand. It was soft and caught the breeze he created. He could see the light through it when he singled out a layer, but draped together the way it was, it looked heavy and rich. 

Marinette was waiting for his judgement expectantly. Juleka had taught him some over the years, but he still didn’t feel like he was competent enough to give his opinion on anything like this. Instead, he tried to picture Jules walking down the runway in the long, flowy evening gown. He tilted his head to the side as he considered. 

“It’s pretty,” he finally said. And it was. Pretty, but something was missing. He hoped he was striking a good balance between telling her what he thought and not insulting her work.

To his surprise, Marinette smirked and turned back to Adrien as she crossed her arms with a triumphant nod. He put his hands up as if surrendering and smiled. 

Luka glanced between them. Apparently he had been the tiebreaker for some argument they’d been having, and he’d broken it in Marinette’s favor. 

“You must be Marinette’s friend,” Adrien said after a pause, extending a hand and a bright grin. His green eyes went to Marinette briefly before they settled on Luka’s guitar, then flicked back up to Luka’s face. 

“Right.” Luka gripped Adrien’s proffered hand and shook it once. “I’m Luka.”

“Well, Luka, it seems I’ve been outvoted.” Adrien’s grin was tight around the edges, Luka noticed. It didn’t seem fake, more like it was worn so often that Adrien had convinced himself it was genuine. “Not that I don’t trust your opinion, anyways, Marinette,” he added. “We’re rebelling, after all, aren’t we?” He winked at Marinette and swatted Luka’s elbow before he walked over to collect his jacket and tie. 

As Adrien slung his jacket over his shoulder, Luka noticed his glance bounce between him and Marinette once more before he smiled again. It unsettled Luka, but he didn’t know why. 

“Text me if you need anything, Marinette. Luka, nice to meet you.” With a two finger salute and a smile he was out the door. 

“I didn’t mean to run him off,” Luka muttered apologetically. 

“Hmm? Oh, no, he said he’d stay until you got here.” Marinette waved a hand at him dismissively but her eyes were trained back on her sketches and she seemed only half-aware that she was still in the room with him. “I wonder…” She moved forward as if in a trance and ran her hand over one of the sketches. In pencil, she made a note off to the side before she pulled it down from the wall and started digging through her pile of fabric for something. 

Luka unslung his guitar from his shoulder and settled into the chair Adrien had vacated. He’d seen her go into her design trances. Instinctively, he knew she needed him as a backdrop for her thought process. Although why she had asked him to come when Adrien was here was beyond him. There was a small voice in his head—Sheila’s, probably—that reminded him that she might’ve just wanted to see him. But he redirected his thoughts with a small shake of his head. He was here because she’d asked him to come and he’d said he would. And that was that. He started strumming his guitar absent-mindedly, letting his fingers roam where they liked. 

Of course they found their way back to her song. He winced when he noticed. But Marinette was stretched across the table as she patterned something out, and her tongue was barely poking out of her mouth as she concentrated on cutting straight lines. He smiled and let himself relax into playing whatever came to mind.

* * *

"Babe, you swore to Marinette you wouldn't try to set her up anymore," Nino said. Alya heard the dish he was drying clink as he put it away. 

"No, I swore I wouldn't set her up with any _other_ hot bartender. Not that I wouldn't set her and Luka up again." Alya tapped at the keyboard of her tablet a little harder than necessary. It was hard to focus on the article she was trying to write when she was worried about her best friend. 

It’d been a week and Marinette hadn’t even mentioned Luka again. True, she had her collection to worry about, but it wasn’t like Marinette to have a one night stand and never think about it again. She liked Luka, Alya knew it. But she wasn’t admitting it to herself for some reason. And Alya had a feeling that reason was a certain blond model. Boss now, apparently. Because work relationships were such a great idea. Not like a high-profile model dating an upcoming fashion designer and also sponsoring her wouldn't be a headline, Marinette's career wouldn't implode, and Adrien wouldn't drop off the face of the earth, leaving Marinette holding the bag. That never happened. She huffed impatiently, and tossed the tablet aside on the couch.

"And besides, it's not a setup. It's a… job offer. He's a musician, Marinette needs music for the show. Simple." 

"It's a bad idea." Nino's voice was soft, even as he chided her. 

"But if we just-" 

"Why don't we just let it take its course?" He crossed the room to lay his hands on her shoulders behind her and leaned his head down on hers. "If he likes her as much as you say, and if she liked him enough to stay the night, then I'd say it's a pretty good start." 

Alya shook her head. "It's just… she's been head over heels for this Adrien guy for… I don't know, months, and he only seemed to notice her when she was useful to him." 

“You don’t know that. If Marinette likes him, then I’m sure Adrien’s a cool dude.” 

“Would you pick a side already?” 

“I have, babe. I’m on Marinette’s side. Luka’s cool, too, but you can’t just keep throwing them together and hoping something will stick.” 

“I can certainly try,” Alya grumbled. 

“So then the problem is you don’t trust Marinette?”

“What?” She turned on the couch to face him. He winced at her tone, but stood his ground. “Why would you say that?”

"Marinette's smart,” Nino continued softly, “she'll figure out what she wants, and she’ll go after it. But you need to trust her to know what she wants for herself and leave it alone." 

He was right. She knew he was right. Alya sighed in defeat. "I just want her to be happy." 

He hummed and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. "I'll ask him, okay? After all, he is my client, and it’d be good exposure. But this time everyone needs to be on the same page."


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette finally tells Luka about the inspiration behind her designs.

Marinette’s phone ringing on the table brought Luka out of his music. He glanced down at her screen and it was Alya. And it was also somewhere around one in the morning. She’d called twice already—once at 22h and once around 23:30h—and they’d both missed it. He glanced over at Marinette. In the few hours she’d been working, she had three things patterned out in a stiff white fabric and tacked to the mannequins. 

He stood and set his guitar down to bring her the phone. She was too entranced in her work to even notice his approach. Hesitantly, he laid a hand on her shoulder and she jumped. 

“Oh! Luka…” she put a hand to her heart and let out a sigh of relief. He held the still ringing phone out apologetically and Marinette answered it without even looking. Luka heard Alya’s concerned tone from where he was standing. He took a conscientious step back. 

“I know, I’m sorry, I just got distracted…” Marinette was still more focused on her design than her conversation. She shouldered the phone to adjust something on the form in front of her as she listened. “Oh, he’s actually here with me. One second.” She looked at her screen and tapped at it before she set it on the table. “You’re on speaker.” 

“Wait, you two are together?” Alya’s voice exploded out of the phone. 

“I asked him to come play his guitar while I worked,” Marinette said casually. “Anyways, what did you want to talk to us about?” 

There was a pause on Alya’s end and Luka used the time to recover from “together” and “us” being thrown around so easily. He cleared his throat and covered it with a cough. 

“Well, Nino and I had a really cool idea to promote Luka’s music, but we wanted to run the idea by you first.” 

“I assume I have Nino to thank for the courtesy?”

“Yeah, well…” 

Marinette laughed. “What’s the idea?” 

“Your show is going to be huge, right? Fashion Week, the _Gabriel_ name, lots of people will be interested and watching. So… what if Luka did the music for it?” 

Marinette bit her lip as she met Luka’s eyes. “That… would actually be really perfect. If he’s up for it, of course.”

He was nodding before she had even finished speaking. “Yes, absolutely.” 

“It’s settled, then,” Alya said. “Nino can work out the details for the commission tomorrow. Or, well, later today. Since, you know, it’s like one in the morning.” 

“It’s one in the morning?” Marinette screeched. She looked around as if she were just jolted awake by a bucket of water. 

“Why do you think I was so worried, girl?” 

“I have to go, Alya, I have to get home and I have to be back here in like 7 hours and-” 

Alya was laughing now. “You really were spaced. No worries, girl. Get home safe.” Alya hung up and Marinette started trying to clear her space for the next day, but she was too flustered and she kept picking things up and setting them in a different place before picking them up again. 

“One in the morning…” she muttered, “I am so sorry, Luka, I didn’t mean to keep you.” 

He shrugged. “Bar hours, remember? I’d be wrapping up my show about now, anyways.” 

“Still.” She shook her head and bent down to pick up the fabric scraps that littered the floor. 

Since she was so unfocused, he thought to help her with her cleaning up. He at least remembered where she’d gotten some things from. Besides, it was another small fraction of time to spend with her. Maybe she’d let him walk her home, or wait with her for a cab. He subtly replaced the items she’d been messing with, tucking her scissors and pincushion neatly back into her kit. 

Her sketch that had started her on all this mess was still lying on the table. He picked it up, fully intending on pinning it back to the wall without looking. It was her top secret project, after all, even if that was just a joke between them.

But his eyes had other ideas. They scanned over the page before he could stop them, taking in her wispy pencil strokes as well as the loopy cursive off to the side. Her notes, he assumed, for what she wanted to capture. But beside that, there was a sketch of a hand laying over guitar strings. A hand with black nail polish and bruised knuckles. 

He glanced down to his own hand where the polish he’d meant to redo tonight was chipping. The bruising on his knuckles had healed, but he was sure Marinette wouldn’t have forgotten about it. He flexed his fingers experimentally. A ghost of the pain still lingered. 

His eyes traveled to her other sketches pinned up on the wall. He’d dutifully kept from looking at them the entire time he’d been playing for the same reason he’d tried not to look at the sketch in his hands. But something whispered in his ear that he needed to know. 

One had notes about “blue eyes, blue hair” next to an evening gown that he assumed was the one he’d appraised earlier. She’d scratched that out in pencil and had revised it to say “eyes like the Seine, eyes like rain, blue/green/aquamarine. Laugh, flirt.” He could tell she’d revised the design as well. It had gone from the flowy thing he’d seen earlier to something short and with an exaggerated swing over some sort of skinny pants. 

His breath was coming in short gasps now, but he dared to look at another one. This one was just labeled “drink” in her notes and must’ve been the ombre one she’d been talking about when he walked in. When he looked at it, he got it. It was the drink she ordered every day from him. Or rather, the one he’d had ready for her every day. The grenadine settling to the bottom of the glass, the cranberry juice floated over the top mixing with the vodka to make a translucent pink.

She was still working in the background and she hadn’t noticed him yet. He pulled his eyes back to the sketch in his hands, unwilling to pry any more than he had already. He could tell her sketching was different on this one. Unlike the other ones—done all in ink and penciled over with revisions—this one was all in pencil. She’d designed this one on the spot tonight, brainstorming with Adrien right next to her. The paper was shaking and he tried to steady himself with a deep breath before he read the notes this time. “Pink drink, blue eyes, purple guitar notes, black leather (nails) movement (hands playing).”

The colors told the story, she’d said. The colors told the story of how they’d met. This was what she’d been working on while she was at the bar. Sheila had been right. She might’ve come at first to work on her project, but she’d come back to see him. 

“Um… Marinette?” His voice was shaking and so were his hands. He cleared his throat to try to get back under control. 

“Hmm?” She turned, distracted, but her expression changed as she noticed the piece of paper in his hands. 

“When you said…” he swallowed thickly, “when you told Alya it’d be perfect if I do the music for the show…” 

She seemed to float towards him and she took the sketch from his trembling hands. She stood close to him—closer than necessary—and it didn’t escape his notice. She fiddled with the edges of the paper in her hands while she thought, dogearing the corner back and forth fondly. 

There was an excruciating pause between them. Luka’s hands were twitching at his sides as he waited for her to think, itching to play the notes of her song in his head that had sped up along with his heartbeat. 

“Have you ever met someone…” she started, blushing down at the paper, “and it’s like… you can’t remember what you ever thought about before you met them?” Her eyes met his finally, the same blue they’d been since the first time he’d gotten caught in them, shining and hopeful and hesitant all at once. His breath stuck in his throat. 

“At first I couldn’t think of anything, you know,” she continued, and she turned to look at her wall of sketches. She floated over to the first in the series and touched her fingertips to the paper. “Total blank. Then there were too many ideas and it was just… white noise. And… well, I thought that maybe a drink would help.” 

She slid her hand down the paper as she talked. “But there was this bartender there. He didn’t ever say anything to me, just had my drink ready to go every day.” She started to smile as she touched the next sketch, the ombre one, briefly before she moved in front of the third one. “I don’t know why exactly, but I remember seeing his eyes for the first time. It was like everything came into focus.” She lingered and paused in her explanation. "And the way he moved… it was just… beautiful. He was beautiful." 

If he was breathing, his chest was barely moving. He was enraptured, listening to their meeting through her eyes. 

She blinked and turned back to him, blushing fiercely. “Sorry… I didn’t think… I mean, we didn’t know each other.” 

“No, we didn’t,” he managed to breathe. 

“But it was all based on who I thought you were. Some idea of you I had in my head, I guess.” Her blush darkened and she moved past the other two to pin the one he’d been holding at the end. The finale. The one Juleka would walk in. 

“I didn’t see these again until after…” her eyes darted sideways at him before she hid behind her hair. “Well, after I spent some time with you.” 

He was starting to feel lightheaded, dizzy. He sat heavily in the chair beside her and focused on breathing.

“Luka, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I just—” her tone had shifted. She was worried about him. He wanted to tell her that he was okay. More than okay. Her work was beautiful and it was inspired by him and she thought he was beautiful and he couldn't breathe anymore. 

"God, you're totally creeped out aren't you? I knew it was weird… that's why I didn't want to tell you before… but I thought that maybe… maybe after—" she let out her breath in a short huff. “Can you maybe just forget I said anything? And you don’t have to do the music if you’re too weirded out—I mean, not that I don’t want you to, because I do, but if you’re uncomfortable or anything or—I mean…” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her crouch next to him and her fingers brushed against his arm tentatively. “Luka?” 

He glanced over at her, willing himself to speak past the lump in his throat, willing himself to tell her that he’d been in love with her since the moment he played for her. His eyes caught on a splash of color in her hair and he reached out to touch his fingertips to it. His pick. She’d been wearing it in her hair this whole time. 

“Luka, will you please say something?” She didn’t pull away from him, but she seemed on the verge of tears. 

Luka. Please. Say something. 

“There’s so much.” _I need to tell you._ But the rest of his sentence didn’t make it out of his head. He swallowed and tried again. “Marinette.” Just her name. That’s all he could manage. She had started fidgeting, trying to wait for him, but impatient all the same. He let his forehead fall to the table and he thunked it gently. 

“I get it,” she said with a sigh. “I know it’s a lot.” 

He nodded against the table. 

“I’m gonna… I need to head home. Will you be okay?” 

A short breath escaped him, like a disheartened laugh. 

“Okay. I… I hope I see you again.” She pulled away from him and stood and he heard her take a few steps towards the door. 

No. No, no no. Not again. Don’t let her walk out the door. 

He stood so quickly his chair toppled backwards. Marinette turned around to look at him, but he was still paralyzed. He opened his mouth and closed it again three times and still nothing came out. She smiled sadly and nodded at him before she walked away.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka talks to Sheila about the previous night and finds the missing piece of Marinette's song. Meanwhile, Marinette talks things through with Alya.

"Sheila, don't. I know what you're going to say," Luka said warily. 

She’d been listening to him recount the events of the past night. As he’d been talking, her hip had slowly started cocking to the side and her lips had grown steadily thinner as she pursed them. Her nails looked more like talons as they tapped on the bar top menacingly. 

All at once she burst forward. "You. Didn't. Go. After. Her?" She smacked his shoulder, hard, with every word. 

He cringed under her barrage. "What was I supposed to say?" 

"Say?” She smacked him one more time, softer, for good measure. “Why do you have to say anything? Luka… sweetheart… picture it with me.” She grabbed his hand and started swinging it. “You follow after her, you grab her hand, you pull her towards you…” she twirled under his arm and pretended to snuggle into him, “and then you kiss her! It’s like a freaking Hallmark movie!” She tossed his hand away as she turned to face him again. “But no, now you’re just the idiot who let her walk away.” 

“I am an idiot,” he muttered. He groaned and sank to lean his elbows on the bar, digging his fingers into his hair. She patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Sheila, what am I supposed to do? I need to fix this."

“You’re damn right you need to fix this. She’s like… she’s like your unicorn or something.” 

“My unicorn?” 

“Yes, Luka, your unicorn. She’s your ‘once in a lifetime, you’ll never find this kind of story again, if you let her get away you’ll regret it forever’ unicorn.” 

“Once in a lifetime,” he muttered back. His eyes widened. “That’s it.” 

“That’s what?” 

“The piece, the missing piece. Where’s my…” he started looking around frantically, making a clicking motion to indicate his pen, before the idea was lost. 

“You didn’t bring your notebook today,” Sheila offered. She held out a cocktail napkin and a pen for him. 

“You’re a saint, an absolute saint.” He took the pen and paper from her and started scribbling furiously, his fingers tapping notes on the bar top beside him. 

“Call Nino when you’re done,” she called over her shoulder as she walked away. He nodded his assent as the rest of his song—Marinette’s song—came together.

* * *

“He just stared at me like I wasn't even speaking French.” Marinette spooned another bite of ice cream into her mouth as she reclined against Alya’s legs. 

She’d gone to work that morning and Adrien had taken one look at her disheveled state—not complete with puffy red eyes because she most certainly had not been crying—and he’d kindly told her to go home and get some rest. So she’d gone to Alya’s. And she’d told her the whole story from start to finish. 

“And he didn’t go after you?” Alya asked hesitantly. 

“Why would he?” Marinette stabbed at her pint of ice cream a little more ferociously than necessary. “I’m just some weirdo that decided to make a collection based on him because he would never know, right?” She stopped trying to murder her ice cream and sighed as she wiped the corners of her eyes. “This is a complete disaster. I’m so stupid.” 

“You're not stupid.” 

“I don’t know why I thought…” her voice wobbled as she held back tears. “I guess I thought that… I don’t know, maybe it meant something, maybe it didn’t, but... God, he must think I’m insane…” her head fell forward into her knees and she covered her face with her arms. 

“He doesn’t.” Alya reached down to adjust Marinette’s hair on her shoulders. “There must be some other explanation. Has he texted you? Called? Anything?” 

“Radio. Silence.” 

“Have you texted him?” 

“And embarrass myself again? No, thank you.” 

Alya smacked the top of her head gently. “Stop that.” She sank down to Marinette’s level and threw her arm around Marinette’s shoulders. Marinette leaned her head against Alya's shoulder and Alya patted her cheek fondly. 

"I can't stop thinking about him, Alya." Marinette whispered. "He's just stuck in my head all the time and that look on his face when I told him…" she hid her face in her arms again. Alya rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. 

“Let’s look at the facts, okay? From what I can tell, he was at work when you texted him to come hang out, right?” 

Marinette nodded into her knees. 

“Which means he dropped everything to come be with you. Not only that, but he stayed with you the entire time—until one in the freaking morning.” 

“He didn’t talk to me or anything, though.” Marinette mumbled. “He was just playing while I worked.” 

“That’s kind of his MO, though, isn’t it? That’s why you said you liked him to begin with. Because he didn’t bother you while you worked.” 

“I guess...” 

“And then when you told him about the collection… maybe it’s possible he was just a little... overwhelmed?” 

Marinette groaned. “That’s exactly what I’ve been telling you.” 

“Not overwhelmed with how crazy you are, overwhelmed with how crazy he is.” 

Marinette peeked up at Alya through the gap in her arms.

“About you.” Alya tapped at the pick that was still nestled in Marinette’s hair. 

Marinette just blinked back at her. That didn’t make any sense. Her fingers reached up to trace the edges of the pick as she thought. He hadn’t ever said anything or done anything to imply that he liked her more than a friend. Sure, he’d flirted with her, but the only time she’d thought he might be serious was when he complimented her dress at the restaurant. Everything else he’d done just to be nice. Right? 

Alya was letting her process, although a smile was starting to tug at the corner of her lips. Maybe Alya was right and she’d just been looking at it wrong. If she took off the “just being nice” filter she’d been trying so hard to see everything through, maybe he had been trying to tell her and she just hadn’t been listening. She unclipped the pick from her hair and looked at it in her palm. Maybe he was trying to tell her something last night and she was too focused on being embarrassed that she left before he could work it out. Maybe she had this all wrong. 

Nino emerged from his office at that point, although he still had his head hung over his phone as he texted someone. 

“Was that Adrien on the phone?” Alya asked him, keeping one eye turned towards Marinette. 

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Commission’s a go. Nice guy.” 

“Who are you texting?” 

“Luka. He says the song he’s been working on is done. Wants to record it as soon as possible. I’m headed out now to try to get some studio time.” 

Marinette perked her head up at the mention of Luka’s name. Alya gave her a small nod. 

“Did he say… anything else?” Alya asked pointedly. 

Nino looked up and took in the situation for the first time. He caught Alya’s eye and she gestured with her head to Marinette. Marinette started ducking down into her knees again.

“No, he didn’t.” 

Marinette deflated and Alya bumped her shoulder against Marinette’s to try to comfort her. Nino’s phone pinged with an incoming message. 

“He asked if he could bring someone with him.” 

“Who?” 

“Didn’t say, just someone.” Nino shrugged as he answered the text. Alya shared a look with Marinette. 

“Someone, huh?” She elbowed Marinette in the ribs playfully and Marinette felt her cheeks heat up as she looked back down at the pick in her palm. 

Maybe there was a reason the song he’d been working on was top secret, too. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka goes to _Gabriel_ after work to invite Marinette to the studio with him, but he's intercepted by Adrien.

Luka rushed over to  _ Gabriel _ as soon as he was off work. He wanted to surprise Marinette, but it had been torture not texting her anything all day. He knew, though, if he started texting her, he wouldn’t be able to hold back and this wasn’t something he wanted to do over a text. He had to talk to her. He had to see her. He’d invite her to the studio with him, play her song for her, confess everything. His heart was pounding just thinking about it. 

Start with the invite, Luka, he admonished himself as he opened the door. That’s all you have to talk to her about right now. The song will help with the rest. She’ll understand once she hears it. 

He didn’t even look up as he rushed through the lobby, eager and anxious to get to her. 

But she wasn’t there. She wasn’t in her studio. Should he wait? He looked around. There wasn’t even any sign she’d been there today. The white fabric on the mannequins hadn’t changed. There wasn’t the tornado of creation he’d expected to see based on last night. 

Worry started to gnaw at his stomach. He hadn’t made sure she got home safely. He didn’t know where she lived, or how far away it was. It had been late—early, whatever, it was still dark—anything could’ve happened. 

Calm down. If anything had happened, Nino would’ve said something when they talked this morning about setting up the studio time. And he hadn’t. Marinette was fine. She just… wasn’t here. 

He thought to leave her a note. Her sketchbook was still on the table. But he hesitated. That seemed like an intrusion. He had done enough of that last night. Maybe he should text her. 

He pulled out his phone and at the same moment he heard a light knock on the door frame. 

“Luka, right?” Adrien asked. Luka must’ve been making what Juleka liked to call his ‘murder face’ because Adrien winced. “Sorry, I saw you come in. Are you looking for Marinette?” 

Luka nodded and shoved his phone in his back pocket. 

“She seemed really upset this morning, so I sent her home.” 

Upset. Marinette was upset. His fingers flew to his hair and tugged as he let out a soft groan. He had to find her. He had to fix this. Adrien was watching him with what seemed like sympathy. Luka didn’t have a good enough read on him yet to know if it was genuine or not. 

“Did something happen last night?” Adrien leaned against the door frame in what could only be described as a casual pose. 

Luka sighed and his hand slipped through his hair to fall at the base of his neck. He rubbed at the tense muscle nervously. “No, not really. It’s what didn’t happen.” 

“Oh.” Adrien nodded as if he understood. 

There was an awkward pause between them. Luka wished he could push past Adrien and run through the streets of Paris until he found Marinette. But it seemed like Adrien still had something on his mind because he was subtly blocking the door. 

“I was hoping to talk to you, actually,” Adrien started. Luka nodded. There it was. “I got a call from someone named Nino this morning. You know him?” 

Another nod. He glanced over Adrien’s shoulder at the clear view of the front door. 

“So you know I’ve commissioned you to do the music for Marinette’s show?” Adrien’s eyebrows rose as he noticed Luka’s distress and chose not to acknowledge it. He strode past Luka and sat in the chair Marinette had used most of last night and gestured across the table from him for Luka to sit. Luka bit his tongue as he thought of Marinette’s space almost automatically becoming a makeshift office for Adrien. 

He glanced again at the now clear path to the front door. He could ignore Adrien. Run out, find Marinette, like he wanted. But Adrien had the power here and they both knew it. Marinette wanted Luka’s music for the show. If Luka did anything to jeopardize that, then he might dig himself an even bigger hole with her than he was already in. Better to play nice and see what Adrien wanted. 

He turned his back on the door and lowered himself into the chair Adrien had indicated. 

“I recognized you, you know,” Adrien continued as if there hadn’t been any interruption. “As soon as you walked in. From her sketches.” He paused to look over at the wall, still papered with Marinette’s work. When he turned back to Luka, he was smiling wistfully. “And from that pick she’s been wearing since day one along with someone else’s pajamas.” His smile quirked up into a knowing smirk. “You two seem close.” 

All Luka could do was nod. 

Adrien sighed and leaned forward. “I haven’t said anything to Marinette, yet, but I think it’s only fair if I let you know.” 

“Let me know what?” He hadn’t missed the subtle threat hiding in Adrien’s words. 

Adrien sighed again, dramatically this time, and glanced up at Luka like he was admitting to a secret. “If the show goes well—and you’ve seen her designs, it’s bound to—I want to ask Marinette to be my business partner.” 

Luka held his breath, then remembered the disastrous effect that’d had last night and exhaled slowly. There was a sucker punch coming. All he could do was brace for it. 

“And I’d like to get as much distance from my father’s name as I possibly can. Make it on my own. With Marinette’s designs to blaze the path.” 

If there was a point to this, Luka thought, just spit it out. He was wasting time sitting here. 

When Luka didn’t respond, Adrien blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair to cross his arms. “I’d like to ask her to come to New York with me.” 

There it was. Luka’s breath left him. New York. Like America. Like across an entire ocean.

“Why are you telling me this?” His voice slipped out barely above a whisper. 

“Because of what didn’t happen.” Adrien stood and walked over to the first form that Marinette had nearly finished last night. He ran his fingers along the lines of the seams Marinette had done, admiring them. “You’re good for her. She works much better with you around,” he noted casually. “Do you know much about fashion, Luka?” 

He shook his head. “Only as much as Juleka’s taught me.” 

“Juleka, right. I’ve worked with her on a shoot before.” Adrien nodded as he smiled. “Your sister, right?” 

“That’s right.” 

“And she’ll be walking in the show. Marinette told me she’s a fan.”

Luka rolled his eyes. The small talk was wearing thin. “What’s your point?” he asked irritably. 

Adrien chuckled. “I’m sure Juleka’s also told you that this is a cutthroat industry.”

“She hasn’t had a problem, yet.” Luka’s fist was clenching on its own. He focused on relaxing it slowly, uncurling his fingers one by one. 

“No, I’m sure she hasn’t. And neither has Marinette. Yet.” 

“Are you…" he had to grit his teeth before he managed to continue, "are you threatening them?” 

Adrien glanced over and noticed Luka’s tense posture. “Of course not,” he said easily, “merely pointing out the facts. I did a little digging after Nino called this morning.” 

He pulled out his phone and tapped it a few times before he set it on the table in front of Luka. It was a video from the bar fight. Someone in the audience that night had recorded it on their phone and posted it somewhere. Luka recognized his own hair in the middle of the knot of people and looked away. He knew how the fight had ended and that’s all he cared to know. 

“If I found that, I don’t think it’ll take long for the press to find it either, once Marinette’s designs start getting attention.” 

“That has nothing to do with her.” Luka’s voice was wavering. He had a feeling he knew where Adrien was going. 

“No, it doesn’t. As long as you don’t either.” Adrien pulled his phone back and silenced the video. He paused and gave Luka another meant-to-be-sympathetic look as he sat back down. “I’m not saying the two of you can’t be together. I’m only asking you to look at the situation in front of you and make an informed decision.” 

“And have you asked Marinette to make an informed decision, too?” 

Adrien seemed uncomfortable. Luka unclenched the fist he hadn’t even realized he’d been making again. 

“No. She has enough to worry about right now with the show. I’ll talk to her about New York after that. But I think you should talk to her about the rest.” 

“The rest?” 

Adrien sighed. “You’re good for her, like I said.” If Adrien had been acting before, he had dropped his theatrical tone and was speaking earnestly now. “All I’m asking is that you think of her first. Let’s say you do get together, okay? And everything’s great, that blissful honeymoon phase. And then the show is over and Marinette has to make a choice.” He dropped his eyes to his hands on the table. “She won’t choose me, Luka. I know it. She’ll pass up the opportunity and she’ll stay here. With you.” 

When Adrien lifted his eyes again, he seemed so genuinely apologetic that Luka was startled into feeling sorry for him. “Do you really want to be the one responsible for her giving up on her dream?” 

“She wouldn’t give up,” Luka said. “One opportunity isn’t her career. If you’re so confident the show will go well, then she’ll have other chances. Other offers.” 

“Other offers to be the head designer at a fashion house connected with the Agreste name?”

“You just said you want to get out from under your father’s name.” 

“I’d like to. But you know it’s not that easy. I’ll always be Adrien Agreste, Gabriel Agreste’s son. And like it or not, that name carries a ton of weight in this industry. And the designer that comes with me to New York will have that name backing them. I think we’d both like it to be Marinette.”

“She should make that choice.”

“You’re right. Absolutely.” Adrien held his hands up as if in surrender. “And if she does choose to come with me, there are a few other options, of course.” He started ticking them off on his fingers. “There’s long-distance. Which, let’s face it, new relationships hardly ever survive. There’s a break up, mutual or not, which leaves her heartbroken. Or, you know, you give up everything here and move to New York with her.” 

“I would. If she asked me, if that’s what she wanted, I would.” 

“Which brings us back to my first point. New designer, big name brand, the press will be interested to know everything they can about Marinette. Including who she’s currently dating. The video won't take long to surface. Assault charges, maybe, from the people you hurt once they realize who you're connected to. Lawsuits, even. Not to mention if you create any new trouble in America.” 

He spread his hands out on the table as if laying all the cards in front of him. “The way I see it, Luka, a relationship with you can only sabotage her and end in failure and heartache.” 

Luka stood slowly, controlling himself as well as he could. “And what, you think you’re better for her?” 

Adrien blinked up at him, unfazed, but clearly puzzled. “Me?” 

“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.” 

Adrien stood as well and held his hands out, palms up, as if trying to calm Luka. Which, Luka realized as he forced himself to straighten up and out of Adrien’s face, he might actually need calming. 

“This isn’t some attempt at Marinette’s affections,” he assured Luka. “I want her to be my business partner. She’s a valuable asset. And to that effect, I want to protect her.” 

“From me.” 

“From anything that might… devalue... her contributions to the company,” Adrien said carefully. “She’s talented, but she won't be worth the effort if all the revenue goes towards PR and lawyers to cover for your mistakes.” 

Luka nodded. Turned away. Tried to convince himself it wasn’t worth it. It didn’t work. 

He spun and decked Adrien in the mouth as hard as he could. Adrien toppled instantly and wiped his bloody lip as he stared up at Luka from the floor. 

“Marinette isn’t an ‘asset,’” Luka said, his voice low, “and she’s worth more than you’ll ever know.” 

Adrien looked at the blood on the back of his hand and frowned. “You do realize you’ve just proved my point?” 

“I don’t care.” 

Adrien paused and his eyes flicked to the doorway. Luka turned and found Marinette standing behind him, her hand at her mouth and her eyes bouncing between Luka and Adrien. 

“Marinette,” Luka said as a sigh of relief escaped him. He heard Adrien shuffle to his feet and dust himself off. 

“I thought you were at home, resting,” Adrien offered. Marinette’s eyes locked onto Luka’s. 

“I… I felt better, so I…” Her eyes flicked to Adrien, then down to Luka’s hand. “What happened?” She reached out and took Luka’s hand to look at it. 

“I came to see you,” Luka started. 

“Yeah, and then he punched me.” Adrien finished sarcastically. 

Luka rolled his eyes. “Not like you didn’t deserve it.”

“No, I really think I didn’t.” 

“If you don’t shut up, right now, I will punch you again.” 

“Okay, what happened?” Marinette had dropped Luka’s hand and taken a step back. Luka turned to Adrien. 

“You want to tell her, or should I take care of the rest?”

Adrien smirked back. “We were just talking. Nothing to worry about.” He wiped his mouth again and slapped Luka’s shoulder as he walked past. “See you around, Luka.” 

“Unbelievable.” Luka muttered at Adrien’s back as he walked away. 

“Luka, what’s going on?” 

“It’s like he said,” Luka said bitterly. “We were talking.” 

“And you just, what, decided to punch him out of the blue?” 

“Yeah, that sounds like something I'd do. Apparently that's all I'm good for. Just go around punching people for no reason.” 

Marinette groaned and turned abruptly to walk away. He cursed himself under his breath before he jogged a few steps to catch up to her. 

“Wait, Marinette, I’m sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Wait, please.” He grabbed her arm gently to stop her. She did turn back around, but pulled her arm away from him. 

"He's my boss, Luka. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Yeah, mine too, I think." He grimaced. "I get it. Not smart." 

"No. Not smart at all." 

"But I came here to talk to you." 

She rolled her eyes at him. "Save it." 

"I finished the song," he tried again, raising his eyebrows hopefully.

She paused and he thought he saw a flicker of curiosity before she shook her head slightly and frowned. "Nino told me. I'm happy for you." 

She turned to continue walking and he grabbed her hand to stop her. "Marinette, please. I wanted to ask you something." 

"Luka, seriously, save it." Her tone was softer, at least, but she still wasn't looking at him. "I'll talk to you later." She slipped her hand out of his and for the second time in less than 24 hours he watched as she practically ran away from him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew... that one was rough. Feel free to throw things in the comments :P   
> Quick note: the chapter total is tentative and I set it a bit high because I wanted you all to know there is definitely a very happy ending in sight.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka records the song and Nino has a distinct feeling he's heard it before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to [MalcolmReynolds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalcolmReynolds/pseuds/MalcolmReynolds) for beta reading this chapter!

An hour later, Luka adjusted his guitar as he settled onto the stool the studio had provided for him. He could see Nino through the glass, fiddling with the dials on a panel that somehow made sense to him. It looked like operating a spaceship to Luka. But that’s what Nino was there for. And it looked like he was good at it from the confidence that he exuded. Luka tapped the microphone before he adjusted it so it was closer to him. Strummed his acoustic one more time just to check it was in tune. 

He couldn’t get Adrien’s voice out of his head. Failure and heartache, he’d said. Is that what he and Marinette were really destined for? If her disdain was anything to go by, he wasn’t even sure if she’d talk to him again, let alone want to be around him or hear what he had to say. Or sing for that matter. He sighed and tried to shake his head clear. But the echo was still there. Failure and heartache. New York. Save it. 

“Are we waiting on anyone?” Nino’s voice leapt out of a speaker near him and made him jump. When he looked up, Nino was leaning into a microphone on his end with his eyebrows raised expectantly. 

Luka frowned and started to shake his head when he saw the door behind Nino open and Sheila strolled in. She waved to Nino, and there was a brief discussion outside the glass before she disappeared and the door to his booth opened. 

“Sheila, what’re you…?” 

“I’m your manager, aren’t I? At least until someone else wants the job.” She caught his eyes and raised her eyebrows in a silent question. 

He frowned and shook his head slightly. No, Marinette wasn’t coming. 

She sighed and stepped closer to him. She didn’t even have to crouch to be eye level with him, which he would’ve found funny if he weren’t still agitated. 

“Don’t worry about it, okay? Focus on this. Just be here, in this moment. This is… I mean, this is huge, Luka. You know that, right?” She paused and her eyes were brimming with pride and support. Without warning, she clapped a hand to the side of his head and pulled him over to her to plant a kiss on his temple, which stunned his inner monologue into silence. 

When she let go of him, her eyes had gone back to their stern amber, sparkling with humor. “If you tell anyone at the bar I did that, I’ll disown you.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh and she flashed a grin at him before she smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand. 

“Now, take a deep breath and kill it.” With that, she walked back out of the room and took a seat beside Nino. 

Sheila was right. He’d been thinking that a lot lately, and yet it always seemed to be true. He chuckled again to himself before he caught Sheila’s eye and took a conspicuous deep breath. She smirked back at him from behind the glass and motioned to Nino to start recording. 

* * *

It only took three takes and Nino had everything he needed to cut the demo together. Luka was beyond talented. It almost seemed to come as naturally as breathing to him. But something had been bothering Nino the entire time. The first time Luka had played the song, it had tugged at the edges of Nino’s memory. The second time had given him full on déjà vu, and by the third he was absolutely certain he had heard this song somewhere else before. 

“We’ll just go one more time, dude, just to make sure we’ve got it.” He made a wrapping motion with his hand when he leaned away and flipped off the sound to Luka’s booth. Luka had already disappeared into the music again and he wasn’t paying attention, which was exactly what Nino needed. 

“Sheila, how do I know this song?” He leaned back and crossed his arms to cast a sideways glance at her. “I’ve heard it before, I know it, but I can’t put my finger on where or when.” 

“That’s probably because you only heard it once before.” Sheila smiled easily at him as she reclined back in her chair. She’d been tipping her chair back on two legs the entire time Luka had been recording, literally keeping herself on edge, but now that it was mostly over, she had relaxed. “It’s Marinette’s song. The one he played for her on stage the night you guys came by.” 

Nino could only stare back at her. “This song. The one we’ve been recording.” 

“Mhmm. He’s been working on it nonstop since then. Couldn’t seem to get it down on paper fast enough.” 

“This is Marinette’s song? As in he wrote this for Marinette?” 

She smiled back at him. “That’s right. Sweet, isn’t he?” She sighed and leaned forward, glancing up at Luka to check on him. “If you want the truth, she was supposed to be here. He wanted to play it for her, to let her know that he hadn’t stopped thinking about her. That he loved her.” Her brow furrowed and she frowned. “But something went wrong on the way here.” 

“What?” 

She shrugged. “I was hoping you’d know.” 

Nino shook his head. “Marinette wouldn’t have told me.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Luka stop playing and look up expectantly. Nino held a thumbs up and waved Luka out of the booth to come hear the results. 

As Luka was focused on packing his guitar away, Nino leaned back over to Sheila. “I’ll talk to Alya tonight and see what I can find out.” 

* * *

Alya looked up from her article as Nino shuffled in the door to the apartment. He caught her eye and held up a disk before he flopped it onto the cushion next to her. 

“I’m in,” he said resolutely before he turned to start putting things away. 

“What’s this?” 

“The song that Luka recorded today.” 

“Can I listen to it?” 

He paused and looked back at her. “Marinette isn’t here, is she?” 

“No. Why? Should she be?” 

“No, no. It’s just I don’t want to spoil anything. Go ahead, babe.” He disappeared into the bedroom and she assumed he was changing into his comfy clothes. She picked it up and turned the case over in her hands. Nino had written the title in sharpie on the front with Luka’s name underneath. Once in a Lifetime. 

She stood and popped the disk into the little CD player they kept out specifically for this purpose and pressed play. Luka’s voice came out of the speakers, accompanied by a familiar melody, but she couldn’t place where she’d heard it before. She hummed along with a few bars, and then she stopped and her eyes widened as she caught the lyrics. 

Nino came back out, then, without his hat and wearing sweats and a baggy T-shirt and he leaned over the back of the couch next to her. 

“He wrote that for Marinette.” 

Alya’s hand came up to cover her mouth as she listened. She sat back down and Nino pressed a kiss to her cheek and leaned his head against hers as tears started gathering in the corners of her eyes. 

“If anyone can bring them together, it’s you and Sheila,” he said softly. “Whatever scheme, whatever set up you guys can think of, I’m in.” 


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka comes in to work on the music for Marinette's show, and they clear the air between them.

Marinette muttered to herself as she stabbed pins into the fashion fabric she was working with. The white Italian cotton was stiff, even after she pressed it, and it lent a good outlet to her frustrations. 

When she came in to work that day, her temper cooled and her curiosity piqued, she had asked Adrien what happened, but he had said it wasn’t his place. That she should ask Luka to explain. And maybe she should. But she was nervous enough about having him come in to work on the music, about talking to him face to face after she had—as Alya had emphatically told her—“overreacted.” She had. She knew she had. Mostly she had run away because if Luka wanted to ask her anything, she didn’t want it spoiled by being angry with him. With them both. What the hell had happened, anyways? 

She hissed as she pricked her finger with a pin. Her hands flew away from the fabric as if she’d been burned. The last thing she needed was to have to start over because of a spot of blood. While she dug in her kit for a Band-Aid, she also checked the time on her phone. Luka would be off work soon. Nino had told him to come see her, since Adrien had generously decided not to cancel the commission. He’d be here soon whether she was ready or not. 

She couldn’t find the Band-Aid, so she stuck her finger in her mouth instead. Her eyes wandered over to her sketches. She had improvised on one of them because she hadn’t gotten a great look at his tattoo, and now that the cat was out of the bag, maybe she could ask Luka… 

Heat crept up her cheeks just thinking of asking. ‘Hey, last time we talked I spat in your face, but can you take your shirt off?’ Yeah, that was a great plan. With her other hand, she fanned herself to try to cool off. Focus, Marinette. Even if he agreed, it wouldn’t be any different than figure drawing. Just keep your eyes on the tattoo, and not on the abs. Or the chest. Or the arms… She shook her head to refocus again. She’d sketched Hot Bartender before. Sketching Luka shouldn’t be any different. 

Who was she kidding? It was completely different. Because it was Luka. And heaven forbid he got that soft, secret look in his eyes. She’d probably melt on the spot. But she still didn’t know if he thought she was just a crazed stalker or if, like Alya claimed, he was interested in her, too. She checked her phone again. Barely ten minutes had passed. 

She pulled her finger out of her mouth and wiped it on her jeans. If there was anything that could distract her from the tension of waiting, it was sewing. She pulled the pinned fabric off the table and moved to the machine, hoping the meditative rhythm of pushing the pedal and pulling the pins out would calm her. 

* * *

Luka found her with her head down over her sewing machine when he walked in, guitar strapped on his back and fully expecting hostile silence. He’d asked Nino twice if he was sure he should go today. Nino had—rather emphatically—insisted. 

Her head popped up as soon as he entered, and her cheeks flushed a bright red. The machine sounded like it bit down on metal and she cursed. Her hands moved quickly to fix whatever had happened. He set his guitar down and let his eyes wander while she wasn’t focused on him. She’d gotten a lot done. Out of a habit of industriousness or procrastination or maybe out of spite. 

He winced as he realized it was most likely the last one. 

She had gotten her current project untangled from the machine and brought it over, carrying it so the fabric didn’t touch the ground, and she graced one of the mannequins with it. He remembered that one. The white noise one, she’d explained. Which made sense, because that’s probably how she was feeling. 

He was waiting, he realized, for her to speak. For her to decide if she wanted to talk to him or not. But as she ducked her head around the form to adjust her work, he noticed his pick was still clipped into her hair. 

A rush of relief flooded through him. Maybe he hadn’t royally screwed up. Maybe he still had a chance. All he had to do was take it this time. She needed to stop moving, first. He reached out to touch her shoulder and she stilled, letting her hands fall by her sides and turning to face him fully. 

A moment passed between them where neither of them said anything. An electric current seemed to pass between their eyes before hers dropped to her shoes and bounced back up to him as a blush pinked her cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, “for what happened.” 

“Me, too,” she said with a sigh. His eyebrows raised and she rolled her eyes. “I shouldn’t have accused you of… well, not having a good reason.” 

His hand went to his hair and he tugged at it before he blew out a breath. “You know, the more I think about it, the more I’m not sure I did.” Her eyebrows raised up that time. “I just… I think what he was saying got under my skin? And I didn’t handle it well.” 

“What was he saying?” 

His eyes flicked to hers, then away. “I don't know if I should say.” 

“Adrien wouldn’t tell me, either.” 

“He doesn’t want to distract you.” 

She huffed and turned back to her project, but he knew she was fiddling more to have something to do with her hands than anything else. “Not knowing is distracting me more.” 

“If you told him that, he’d probably tell you.” Luka chuckled.

“If you both would stop being so damn cryptic…” Her brow was starting to furrow and she was muttering more to herself than to him. 

“All right.” He stepped around her and caught her wrist to get her attention again. “Ask him about New York.” 

“New York?” 

Luka nodded. “If he tells you about New York, I’ll tell you the rest. Deal?” 

She finally stopped to look at him and he raised his eyebrows hopefully. She sighed. “Deal.” 

“Good.” He smiled at her, but her eyes had traveled down to his hand, still curled around her wrist, and a blush started to rise to her cheeks. He let go and took a quick step back. “Okay. So, now that that’s out of the way…” If the heat creeping up to the tips of his ears was any indication, he was blushing, too. He cleared his throat. “Um, music? Right?” 

If anything, her blush intensified and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I have a favor to ask first,” she mumbled. “I need a sketch.” 

“A sketch.” He glanced over to her other sketches. One was pulled off the wall again, but it wasn’t the one she was working on. It was the fifth in the set, the one right before the finale. He ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath before he was overwhelmed again. “A sketch of what?” 

She turned and mumbled again, and he wasn’t able to catch what she said. He knew from experience that words weren’t always the best form of communication. 

“Can I look?” He waited for her to turn back around and pointed to the sketch on the table. She nodded and he picked the paper up. Almost instantly he understood why she was embarrassed. The look was a black jacket with a sleeve that was supposed to be inspired by his tattoo. His tattoo that she didn’t have a sketch of. 

“Oh,” he managed to say, and he couldn’t tell who was blushing more out of the two of them. 

“I didn’t get a very good look at it last time,” she mumbled. “It was dark, and then I was in a hurry and… and I’m sure it’s fine, but I want the colors to be right…” 

He swallowed and took another deep breath. Passing out would not be helpful. “Yeah, sure. Um…” He looked around the small studio space. “How do you… I mean, where do you want me?” 

If it was at all possible, her blush went darker than he’d ever seen on her. Her hands flew up to her face to hide her eyes. It was almost instinctual by now for him to reach out and pull one away. Finally, she peeked out from between her fingers and met his eyes. He squeezed her hand to reassure her. 

“I have an idea,” he said gently. “How about we pretend we’re just at the bar. I’m just serving you drinks, and you’re just Little Blue, coming in to work on a project.” 

Her head tilted to the side and a smile fluttered at the edges of her lips. “Little Blue?” 

He smiled and dropped his eyes to their hands. “It’s… it’s what I called you before I knew your name.” He glanced back up at her through his hair, hoping that his confession wouldn’t put her back in a corner. To his surprise, she was starting to smirk, although her eyes were back behind her hand. 

“Do you name all your regulars like that?” Her tone was flippant, bordering on flirtatious, and he took courage from it. 

“Just the ones with gorgeous blue eyes.” He gave her a lopsided grin and she giggled at him. He winced and looked back at his shoes, still smiling at having made her laugh. “Wow, that was bad.” He glanced back up at her and her eyes hadn’t left him, even behind her fingers. He liked the feeling of making her flustered. Making her laugh. Making her feel at ease with him. 

He was about to start worrying he’d laid it on too thick when she shook her head, took a breath, and emerged out from under her hand. “Okay. Back at the bar. I can do that.” 

She slipped her hand out of his and turned to find her sketchbook. When she had it tucked close to her chest, she pointed across from her and he followed her direction to lean back against the table. She sat backwards in her chair and opened to a blank page before she closed her eyes. She took a few calming breaths and when her eyes opened again, they were clear and her blush was gone. He raised his eyebrows to ask if she was ready and she nodded. 

He took his jacket off first and folded it neatly beside him before he tugged his shirt over his head. He twisted to keep his back to her as he set that down, too. It was his turn to take calming breaths. At the bar, he thought. He’s just talking to Little Blue at the bar. When he turned back around, he leaned his palms back against the table, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest. 

She was blushing again, but her eyes were still focused. They bounced between him and her paper as her pencil followed the lines she was seeing. He looked down at his tattoo, trying to see it through her eyes. He’d gotten it so long ago, when he was barely 18, that he forgot about it most days. 

He’d given the tattoo artist some liberties with the snake’s coloring, and he’d ended up with a teal king cobra with dark teal accents. The hood was fully extended, the forked tongue testing the air, and the body coiled protectively around a bouquet of gardenias before the tail looped back up to the top of his shoulder. He still told the story of just wanting a pet snake, and if people asked about the flowers, he usually said the artist didn’t know what else to put in the center. But the meaning behind it ran deeper. He’d always been guarded. Most people thought of him as intimidating and that’s all they saw. The snake, wary and ready to strike. 

But as Marinette switched to her colored pencils, swatching the colors, he realized she’d been able to see right through him the whole time. Past the snake to the heart of him. He looked back at her sketches on the wall. Crazy to think how this all started. His eyes meeting hers as he passed her a drink. And she’d captured that one moment and turned it into art. 

“And… done,” she announced, holding it up proudly for him to see. He took the sketchbook from her and she’d rendered his tattoo in her own style, blurring the colors softly at the edges so it looked more like a watercolor. Her fingers were still stained a bluish-green from her smudging. 

He smiled at her and nodded. His eyes caught on one of her notes and his lips quirked up into a smirk before he could help it. She’d written “Hot Bartender” up in the corner. Not a design note, more like a mental note. He flipped the book back around and pointed to it, his eyebrows raised suggestively and his smirk growing by the second. 

She gasped and snatched the book away from him as he laughed. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” she muttered, but she was still smiling and her eyes definitely lingered on their way down his body. 

“Mhmm. I see how it is. Is that all I am to you? Eye candy?” He was poking fun at her, but the deep blush that instantly colored her cheeks was worth it. 

Yeah, he liked making her flustered. But then she got that look in her eye that he’d only caught a glimpse of on stage. When she’d downed her drink and he’d nearly choked because she seemed to like making him flustered, too. She leaned into him and his breath caught in his throat when she smirked up at him. 

She paused there, her arm barely brushing against his side and giving him goosebumps, looking up at him with those gorgeous blue eyes, at the perfect angle for him to lean down and close the distance between them before she grabbed his shirt from the table behind him and tossed it into his face. 

He swiped the shirt away, but she’d already pulled back and turned away from him to start digging through her fabric pile. She was hiding what was sure to be a crimson blush behind her work, Luka knew, but this time he was willing to let her. He needed a second to recover from that, too. 

He looked down at his shirt in his hands and chuckled. Hot Bartender. He could work with that. 


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette comes in to the bar to talk to Luka about New York and he finally manages to ask her if he can play her song for her.

Sheila’s towel was in full swing the next day at work. Luka got snapped viciously a few times for ‘daydreaming,’ and his coworkers kept getting snapped at for what Sheila termed ‘snickering.’ In all honesty, being called a lovesick fool by absolutely everyone he worked with just made him smile more. 

For the rest of the night, he’d stayed at the table with Marinette’s sketches laid out in front of him to work on the music, and she’d gone back to her sewing machine. But between the glances he was stealing when he thought she wasn’t watching and the furtive flick of her eyes away from him that he’d barely caught several times, he didn’t think either of them had accomplished much. 

And she’d let him walk her home. He wouldn’t have ever thought he’d hope that walking could be a slower form of transportation. Every minute was seared into his heart, though. His knuckles had brushed against hers twice. And the second time he could’ve sworn he’d felt her fingers twitch towards his. 

When they’d reached her door they both fell silent. Marinette had fiddled with her keys as she thanked him. He’d started to say something—probably something about how he was happy to, how it was no trouble—but before the words were out of his mouth, she’d reached out to grab his guitar strap, bracing herself as she bounced up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. She’d paused to lock eyes with him as she pulled away before she blushed and fumbled to let herself into her apartment, smiling back at him one more time before she closed the door. 

He didn’t remember getting home, or even if he slept. It all seemed like a dream, anyways. 

God, she’d kissed him and she’d meant it. He touched his fingers to his cheek again, remembering for the millionth time her breath fanning across his skin, the warmth of her blush radiating from her, the soft imprint of her lips. She’d kissed him. And she’d meant it. 

He sighed, also for the millionth time, and leaned down on the bar. 

“You know, if I’d have known you’d be this useless at work, I wouldn’t have encouraged you in the first place.” Sheila shoved him over roughly, breaking him out of his thoughts. 

He sighed—again—and fell against the back counter, grinning. 

“So you told her, then?” 

He shook his head. “Not yet. But I’ll be going to see her straight after work.” 

“No, you won’t be.” Sheila’s tone was off and it brought him down from his personal cloud with a bump. 

“Why not?” 

Sheila chuckled. “You forgot.” 

“Forgot? Forgot what?” 

She waited, and he looked around helplessly, hoping one of his coworkers would have mercy and clue him in. 

“I have tonight off,” she finally said, although there was still a laugh in her voice and a predatory gleam in her eye. “And you promised you’d play here tonight so I could bring a few friends.”

“I did?” 

“Remember? The favor you owe me?” The way she was grinning made him feel like this was something she was trying to get him to play along with. She’d never asked to cash that favor in. Had she? Maybe he was more out of it than he thought. 

He blew out a slow breath. “I’m sorry, Sheila, I must’ve spaced.” 

“Hey, don’t worry about it, okay? Maybe you can invite her.” She bumped her hip against his good-naturedly. 

He laughed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. Maybe.” 

Now that he was back on planet earth, he remembered there was one more detail he hadn’t told Sheila about. His deal with Marinette. Everything rested on what Adrien told her. If he told her. What if he didn’t? Where did that leave them? 

What if he did? What would she decide? 

Sheila hip-checked him again. “Stop brooding. You’ll be fine.” 

He nodded and felt the air pressure change as the door opened. 

“Speak of the devil...” Sheila muttered in his ear before she squeezed his arm and walked away quickly. He had just enough time to wonder what she meant before he turned his head and Marinette was standing in the door. 

She was twisting her fingers together, and already blushing down at her shoes, but he didn’t know what that meant. She avoided his eyes as she walked over to lean across from him.

“Hi,” he said breathlessly, “you’re, uh… you’re early.” He tried to grin at her, but she was still looking down at her hands, curled together on the bar top.

“I had to see you,” she admitted, which would’ve made him giddy, except for the concentrated furrow that was still between her brows. “Adrien… he… um, he told me about New York.”

He leaned down on his elbows and blew out a breath. “Good. I’m glad he told you.” 

“He told me a little bit about the rest, too.” She winced. 

A wry laugh escaped him as he shook his head. “Of course he did.” 

“He shouldn’t have assumed… I mean, I told him what happened that night. He admitted he jumped to a few conclusions about you and… and about me. And he apologized.” Finally, her eyes met his. “You had every right to be upset.” 

He nodded, but dropped his eyes. He wondered if Adrien had laid everything out in front of her the same way he had with Luka. The challenges ahead of them. If there was a ‘them.’ He glanced back up and she was watching him with a small frown. 

There was a pause between them, and she was starting to twist her fingers around each other again. He pulled her hand away and laced his fingers through hers to prevent her from doing any damage. She stared at their hands as he started to stroke his thumb against hers. 

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “New York. It sounds like a dream come true. But…” 

He waited for her to finish her thought, although his heart was pounding in his throat. 

“But I’d have to leave everything behind. My friends, my family…” she glanced up at him and he understood her unfinished thought. 

“Your favorite bar,” he supplied. 

She nodded. “Adrien said I didn’t have to decide anything now. That I had time to think about it. But… I don’t know. It’s almost worse that way.” 

He winced. “I’m sorry. That I made you ask. Maybe he was right and it should’ve waited until after…” 

“No, no.” She reached over to wrap her other hand around his. “I’m glad you told me. I’m glad  _ he _ told me. He’s ambushed me before and it…” she laughed drily at a memory. “It didn’t go well.” She caught his eyes again. “Seriously. Thank you for thinking of me.” 

“I’m always thinking of you.” He smirked at her, trying to lighten the mood, but it brought a blush to her cheeks and she pulled away. 

There was another awkward pause as he waited for her to recover. 

“The show’s in a couple weeks,” she said, more to herself than to him. “Um… you’ll… you’ll be there, won’t you?” 

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

She nodded and finally smiled at him, although it was tinged with sadness, before she turned to leave. He couldn’t bear to watch her walk away again, so he went to the back instead. 

And found Sheila blocking his path, with her eyebrows raised all the way up, her arms crossed, and her hip cocked to the side. 

“Sheila, I can’t—”

Before he could finish she rolled her eyes and shoved him back out to the front. He stumbled and barely managed to catch himself against the bar, although his hand smacked against the bar top and the bottles beside him rattled. 

He shot a glare back at Sheila before he noticed that she was gesturing frantically to the door, and he turned his head just as Marinette put her hand on the door handle. 

“Marinette!” His voice rang out across the space, much louder than he’d intended, but the hope in her eyes as she turned back to him was worth having the attention of the whole bar. 

“Marinette, wait.” 

And she did. She pulled her hand away from the door and waited for him as he jogged out from behind the bar. 

“I was wondering…” She smiled and nodded, encouraging him. Breathe, Luka. “Well, I’m… I’m playing here tonight and I wondered if you’d be able to come. To my show. Tonight.” 

Her brow furrowed, as if that wasn’t the question she was expecting. “Your show?” 

He managed to nod. “I thought I could… well, there’s a song I’d like to play for you.” He raised his eyebrows hopefully. “If you want to hear it.” 

Her eyes lit up and her smile widened. “You’ll play it for me?” 

“Tonight. Will you come?” 

“I wouldn’t miss it.” 

He felt a grin stretch across his face before he could stop it. “Good. Okay.” He chuckled sheepishly. “Well that was… that was it, I guess.” 

“See you tonight, then.” She smirked at him before she pushed against the door to leave. 

As soon as she was out the door, his knees wobbled out from under him. He only just managed to catch himself on her bar stool. He sat heavily and leaned his cheek to the cool bar top. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he heard Sheila ask. He groaned before he turned to glower at her. She had her phone out and she was dialing someone. 

“Who are you—” 

She tapped sharply on the side of his head to shut him up and brought the phone to her ear. Whoever it was must’ve been expecting her call because they picked up right away. 

“Alya? Yeah. He did it.” Sheila patted his head again, although fondly this time. “Is everything else ready?” She grinned down at Luka in the way he’d become all too familiar with. Like a fox cornering a rabbit. A plot was afoot. “Perfect. See you then.” 

As she hung up, she plucked at Luka’s sleeve to get him standing again. “Come on, sweetheart. We have work to do.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Alya convinces Marinette not to worry, Nino drives her to the bar to meet Luka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading and loving this story along with me! I wouldn't have gotten this far without your kind words 💖 
> 
> The song Luka sings in this chapter is [Once in a Lifetime](https://youtu.be/KHy9mLJ7enk) by Landon Austin

“How about… this one?” Alya grinned and held up a scrap of red fabric that resembled a halter top shirt. 

Marinette raised her eyebrows. “Alya, it’s just the bar.” 

“Well, this is for _after_ the bar.” She waved the shirt like a suggestive flag. Marinette felt her face flush and she took it from Alya’s hands and laid it in the reject pile. 

“There’s not an ‘after the bar.’ It’s just the bar.” 

Alya didn’t say anything, but the way her eyes were flashing behind her glasses meant trouble. 

“It is ‘just the bar,’ right?” Marinette asked suspiciously. Alya mimed locking her lips and Marinette groaned. “Alya, the last thing I need is another surprise. Will you just tell me?” 

After a pregnant pause, Alya sighed. “It is just the bar.” 

“Okay then.” Marinette turned back to look at her closet. 

What should she wear to a casual place to try to impress a guy who wears ripped jeans every day, but not _look_ like she was trying to impress him? After all, she wasn’t trying to impress Luka. It wasn’t like she wanted to see his jaw drop again, or make him flush that adorable shade of pink he went after she kissed his cheek the other night. And she definitely wasn’t hoping that his hands would find their way to any skin she dared to bare, or that she should forgo lipstick in case… 

She shook her head clear and took a deep breath. It was just the bar. She was just going to see him play and that was it and that would be that because New York was looming over her head like a sword dangling by a thread. 

She had to go. Of course she had to go. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. 

But why did it feel like she’d be missing out if she went? 

Her eye caught on the shirt he’d given her that night she spent with him. She pulled it off its hanger and hugged it to her. It smelled like her laundry detergent instead of his apartment, but her memory supplied the scent for her. Cologne mixed with rain, chamomile and honey, crisp air after a storm. 

She turned and found Alya watching her. 

“What am I going to do?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Alya, I didn’t plan for this. For any of this.” 

Alya held up a finger and dug through the pile beside her on the chaise until she pulled out a pair of black skinny jeans. She stood and grabbed a pair of scissors from Marinette’s desk before she pushed everything into Marinette’s hands with a smile. 

“You’re going to go to the bar tonight. And you’re going to enjoy every minute of it. New York will still be waiting for you tomorrow.” 

“But it’s tomorrow I’m worried about. I don’t want to start something I can’t see through.” She frowned down at the items in her hands and went over to drop them on the chaise with everything else. “Maybe I shouldn’t go tonight.” 

Alya stopped her. “M, just because something isn’t going the way you planned it doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing.” 

“It is if Luka gets hurt.” 

“Shouldn’t you let him have a say in that?” 

Marinette shifted the clothes in her hands and held them closer to her. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted. 

“One drink. That’s all I’m saying,” Alya said gently. 

Marinette smiled. One drink wouldn’t be so bad. And she did tell Luka she’d be there. She nodded. “One drink. I can do that.” 

* * *

Marinette picked at the distressing she'd added to the thigh of her black jeans as she watched the city flash past the passenger-side window of Nino’s car. She hadn’t been willing to rip the knees out like Alya had suggested, but she liked the subtle nod to Luka’s style. And the not so subtle nod of wearing his favorite shirt on purpose. 

Alya had helped her braid her hair on the side, but the rest was loose around her shoulders and she had opted for a bright red lipstick. A deterrent, she figured, so she wouldn’t want to kiss Luka senseless the moment she saw him. Although Alya had said that it might have the opposite effect on him. And that thought most definitely had not made her stomach do a full somersault. 

Nino was being uncharacteristically quiet. She hadn’t gotten a word out of him the whole drive. Normally, she’d be suspicious, but this was Nino. He didn’t usually get involved in Alya’s schemes if he could help it. And Alya had confirmed he was just taking her to the bar. 

“Thanks for dropping me off, Nino,” she tried, but he only nodded in response. He was tapping his fingers against his thigh as he drove. “It’s a shame you can’t stay,” she tried again. “Not even for one drink?” 

His eyes slid over to her and the side of his mouth she could see twitched in what she thought was a smile before he shook his head. 

“You’d tell me if something was up, wouldn’t you?” 

This time he did smile, and he shook his head again. She was about to ask what he meant, but they pulled up to the bar and Nino unlocked her door and refused to look at her. She had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach as she got out and leaned down to look back at him. 

“Okay…? Well, what time are you picking me up?” 

Finally, he met her eyes, but he mimed zipping his lips and leaned over to pull her door shut before he drove away. Marinette watched his tail lights disappear down the street. She shivered in the cool night air. Something was definitely up. But she was at the bar, and that’s where she was supposed to be. She took a deep breath before she reached out to open the door. 

The first thing she noticed was how empty and quiet it was. Not a soul was at the bar, not even a single bartender. She looked back as the door shut behind her, almost worried that Nino had dropped her off at the wrong place, but then soft music drew her attention from the back of the room, where Luka was usually set up. 

She ventured in further, looking around as she went. Luka wasn’t on the stage, but the music was getting louder. She vaguely registered that lights had been strung along the walls, casting a soft glow over everything. 

As she approached the stage, Luka came out from where he’d apparently been hiding, waiting for her, strumming his acoustic guitar and giving her that secret smile of his that made her heart melt. Something about the melody tugged at the edges of her memory. But then he was in front of her and she could barely think about anything but how she’d been smiling ever since he’d walked into view. 

“A summer rain is passing over,” he started singing softly, “and it feels like a dream.” 

She watched as he took in her outfit of choice, complete with his pick still in her hair, and her smile widened as he turned that shade of pink she’d been hoping to see.

“I’m under your skies.” He let out his breath in a soft, embarrassed laugh that was meant only for her. “I’m caught in your eyes.” 

A blush sprang to her cheeks as she remembered where she’d heard this song before. 

“Don’t you know you stop the room? And all that I can see is you?” His eyes disappeared behind his hair as he looked down at his hands. The echo of his words from the restaurant hit her full force, just like when he’d said them the first time. He’d meant it. She couldn’t help a laugh from being startled out of her and she covered her mouth as tears sprang to her eyes. 

He’d meant it. He’d meant it all. From the moment he’d played this song for her on stage. 

His eyes came back up to meet hers. The lights of the room added a little sparkle to the same brilliant blue she’d seen the first time their eyes met. “I know this doesn’t happen twice. You must be my once in a lifetime.” 

He took a step forward and her breath caught in her throat. The guitar was the only thing between them, and his hands moved deftly, expertly, as if he could play this song with his eyes closed. He leaned his forehead down to hers and she realized he did have his eyes closed. He was singing only to her, his voice low and breathy. A happy tear slipped down her cheek.

“Ask me anything you want to, ‘cause the answer is yes. I’ll spend my whole life,” his eyes opened and she was lost in them, “just being caught up in your eyes.” 

He pushed his guitar aside until it came to rest on his back and wrapped his arm around her to pull her close. The guitar music picked up over the bar speakers, and he was singing along as he started swaying with her. 

She hid her face in his shoulder. Was this happening? Was this real? She felt his breath hitch against her, and his heart was pounding as he continued singing. God, he was _nervous_ , and he was nervous because he was singing to her and because this was… 

This was a declaration of love. 

She pulled away to look at his face again, stunned. The lights around the room. The surprise, the song. For the first time she noticed that he had some sort of product in his hair to slick it back on the sides and he was dressed up again. He’d planned this, or he’d had help planning it, or—

Now she was really crying and another laugh escaped her. He smoothed his thumb across her cheek to swipe a stray tear away and tipped her chin up to look at him. 

“So before the storm has passed,” he sang, “I just want to ask, can we make this moment last?” 

Before she even registered his words, she was nodding. She wasn’t sure if the little flourish of guitar she heard was her flutter of happiness or his, but he flexed his arm to hold her tighter and missed a beat of the song. 

_Like I can’t remember any other music I’ve ever heard before._

His words from that night struck her straight through the heart. _Oh._ He’d tried to tell her. That night in the rain. And his soft smile when they’d woken up together the next morning. Like waking up with her was everything he’d ever wanted. He loved her. 

And she loved him. 

She grabbed his guitar strap and pulled him down to her. The music kept going in the background—the song wasn’t over—but she didn’t care and he didn’t seem to either as he wrapped his arms entirely around her to lift her against him, angling his head to kiss her better. 

Her hands were everywhere, on the sides of his face, in his hair, tracing down his neck—which caused a delightful shiver to run through him that she committed to memory—as she kissed him senseless, just like she’d wanted to, smiling the entire time. He wouldn’t stop smiling either, and she felt his arm trembling as he resisted letting her go. 

“My once in a lifetime,” he sang, his lips inches from hers as he pulled away to breathe. He relaxed and she slid down to touch her toes back to the ground. The music faded away as he pressed his forehead against hers again, letting out a soft laugh as his eyes closed. 

In the quiet that the music left in its wake, she could hear him breathing shakily, and she waited for him to open his eyes again. Eyes like rain bouncing off the Seine, bright blue with a sparkle of light. She was almost afraid that when the silence was broken, their moment would be, too. So she waited. She curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt at his waist and she waited. 

“Marinette.” Just her name. It fell from his lips like a sigh. He took a slow, deep breath in and let it out before he straightened up, although he kept his arm around her. “I wanted you to know. Before…” 

She put a finger to his lips and smiled as he swallowed visibly. Her lipstick was smeared across his lips and she _loved_ that she’d made a mess of him, that he was so completely wrecked because he was holding his heart in his hands and offering it to her. 

“Not tonight,” she whispered. 

He nodded back, and when his eyes opened again, they were darker than she’d ever seen them, and heavy with want. His arm flexed around her again and she pushed against him to kiss him again, softly this time. When she pulled away, he was watching her, waiting for her. 

“Tonight… do you mind if I wait for the storm to die down a bit?” She raised her eyebrows, hoping he caught her meaning. She knew he had when his breath hitched again. 

“We’ll have to make a run for it,” he answered, and his smile turned up at the side in a smirk. 

“Well, your place isn’t far, right?” 

He laughed—a bright, open sound that had her wishing she’d thought to make him laugh like that before. “No, it’s not far.”

He reached out to twine his fingers through hers and with a devious smile she tugged him towards the door.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after Luka's grand gesture, he and Marinette talk about New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to MalcolmReynolds for giving this a read-through!! 
> 
> This was supposed to be the last chapter, and it was going to be a straight cut to the show... but they were so happy! I couldn't help but write this little piece in between.

The next morning, Luka woke up with a familiar weight pressed against his side. Marinette, curled up against him, raven hair spilling over her bare shoulders, smiling as she slept. 

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear so he could look at her. The soft morning light bounced off the soft pink of her cheeks, making her look radiant. His thumb stroked against her cheekbone softly before he pressed a kiss to her forehead and squeezed her to him. Last night had been more than he’d ever dreamed. When she’d kissed him. When she’d told him using everything but words that she wanted to be with him. He couldn’t seem to wipe his smile off his face. 

She sighed contentedly as she woke and squeezed him back. Her hand on his hip trailed across his bare stomach and made him shiver with a memory of pleasure. 

“Hi,” he whispered. 

She rubbed at her eyes before she sighed again and shifted so she could twine her fingers through his and fall back against his shoulder. When her eyes opened, so bright and clear and blue, his heart swelled. Slowly, her smile grew and she snuggled closer to him. 

“Hi.” 

He grinned mischievously and leaned over to pepper her face with kisses and she giggled, pretending to push him away but obviously pleased by his attention. “Don’t tell me you’re a morning person,” she whined, rolling her face back into his chest. 

“Today I am.” He chuckled before he covered her face with his hand, blocking the light for her, and she nuzzled him in appreciation. “So, I take it you’d like some coffee before work?” 

“My hero,” she mumbled, and he ran his fingers through her hair to brush it back from her face again. 

“Be right back.” He kissed her temple, and started to slide out from under her, but as soon as he sat up, her arms were wrapped around his waist and she was nuzzling into his back. 

“Mmm… don’t go…” she grumbled. He laughed and pulled out of her loose embrace to slip his boxers on. She let her face fall into his sheets and grumbled again. 

“Coffee or cuddles?” he asked, amused. 

“Both?” 

He laughed again and kissed the top of her head. He could kiss her all day long, every day, for the rest of his life and it wouldn’t be enough. 

“Coffee, then cuddles?” he offered. 

She nodded into his sheets and sighed as she flopped over onto her back again. A devilish grin curled her lips as she locked eyes with him and stretched, and he felt a blush creep up his cheeks. Yeah, Marinette naked in his bed was something he could definitely get used to. 

He turned abruptly and padded down the hallway to start the process of making coffee for her, thankful he’d bought the french press and grounds for Juleka for whenever she came by. He heard a rustling of fabric against the carpet and laughed again as Marinette shuffled into view wearing his bed. Or at least his coverlet. She bounced up to peck his cheek and leaned her hip against his as he worked. The quiet between them was comfortable, easy, and he loved it. 

He hated to break it. He hated to bring up the ugly question rattling around in his head. He should just leave it at what it was and bask in the happiness of having her here. For whatever time he had with her. But that wouldn’t change the fact that the question would still be there, no matter how long he ignored it. 

“So, about last night…” he started. 

She blushed and hid behind his coverlet. “What about it?” 

He cleared his throat and set the plunger up, ready to go once the coffee had steeped. “Well, I guess I’m wondering…” He glanced over at her and sighed. “I guess I wanted to know where we go from here.” 

“You mean New York,” she said, “whether or not I’ll go.” 

He nodded and watched the seconds tick by on the timer he'd set. She was quiet as she considered. 

“I still don’t know,” she admitted finally. She paused again and he noticed her watching him out of the corner of his eye. He turned to look at her and her head quirked to the side. “What do you think?” 

He smiled and slipped his hands into her cocoon to caress the skin at her waist. "I think I'll be here for you no matter what you decide." He dropped another kiss to the top of her head and pulled her close to rub her back. 

“Yeah?” 

The hope in that one word set his heart fluttering all over again. "Yeah." He leaned down to rest his chin on her head. "And I think you should do it." 

She froze in his arms. 

"Adrien did get one thing right. This is a huge opportunity for you. I think you should take it." 

"But…" She head-butted his shoulder softly. "Don't you want me to… to stay?" 

"Of course." He kissed her head again before he pulled away to tip her eyes back up to his. "Of course I want you to stay." 

He traced the soft skin of her cheeks reverently and leaned in to press his lips to hers. She curled her fingers into his hair and pushed her chest against his, letting the coverlet fall to the floor. He moaned into her kiss and broke away. 

"Okay, now that's not fair," he said with a breathless laugh. She trailed kisses down his neck and along his collarbone and he groaned. “Keep that up and you’ll be late for work.” His voice came out in an unfamiliar growl. 

Another open-mouthed kiss landed on the joint between his neck and his shoulder before she giggled. “So you agree, then? I shouldn’t leave?” 

“Marinette…” 

“Yes, Luka?” Her breath fanned against his skin and made him shudder. He pulled away from her and wiggled the ring he always wore off his hand. She watched him with wide eyes as he offered it to her. 

“No matter where you go, I’m yours.” She held her hand out for him and he slipped his ring on her thumb. “We can figure the rest out together.” 

She bit her lip and admired his ring on her hand. The timer beeped and he turned back to silence it before he separated the grounds out, focusing on putting steady pressure on the plunger instead of the growing need to carry her back to his bed. 

She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing close against him and dropping a kiss between his shoulder blades. 

"Together," she murmured against his skin. "I like that." 

She laid her head down between his shoulders and he busied himself making her a cup of coffee. A heavy pall fell over their comfortable silence as she seemed to think and he tried to convince himself he'd be fine if she left and he couldn't be like this with her again for a long time. Two weeks wasn't nearly enough. But it was something, and he was thankful for it. Regardless of what happened after the show. 

"What if…" she started. He hummed in response. "What if I started my own brand?" 

He paused before he turned in her arms and leaned back against the counter to pull her against him. "If you did, what would that take?" 

"Money, mostly." Her eyes were far away as she thought. "And I'd need a website… fashion week is good exposure, I'll already have the  _ Gabriel _ name attached to my work… I'd need a space to work. Fabric, machines, notions…" 

He smiled and rubbed her hip absent-mindedly. She was getting lost in her dream and he was happy to let her. Suddenly, she snapped back to reality and frowned. 

"Ugh…" her head fell forward into his chest. "It'll never work." 

He twisted to grab her coffee and handed it to her. "Why not?"

"What?" 

He shrugged. "Why wouldn't it work?" 

"Because, it's just… I mean, the money alone and…" she gaped at him. "You really think I can do it." 

He started running his fingers through her hair, brushing it back from her face and causing her to close her eyes and hum in pleasure. "Well, I think Adrien thinks you're the best designer at  _ Gabriel _ , which is the best fashion house in Paris." 

He chuckled as she blushed and started sputtering. He kissed the blush away from her cheeks. "And I think that he knows that if left to your own devices you could give his dad a run for his money. Why else would he choose you as a partner to go up against him?" 

"But... I'd need like... thousands of euros! I'm not talking like 1 or 2 thousand either, but like… multiple multiple thousands." 

"So you find a sponsor." He pressed a kiss to her forehead and smiled. "I have complete faith in you." 

"That's… I mean, this is…" She was grinning and blushing and starting to wiggle in his arms as the idea took hold. "This is crazy!" 

God she was cute. He chuckled and ran his hands down her sides, still amazed that she was here with him and she was real and she was wearing his ring and she was amazing. Extraordinary. 

"Maybe after the show you can counter Adrien," he started again. "Your brand, his sponsorship. He doesn't want the name, just the business. If he wants to rebel, then he shouldn't run away to New York. And if he wants to be your partner, then he should take your feelings into consideration before making decisions that involve you." 

"And I wouldn't have to leave," she murmured between her fingers pressed to her lips. "I could stay here. In Paris." She blushed a deep red but met his eyes evenly. "With you." 

The breath was knocked out of him. "If that's what you want," he answered. 

She giggled and set her coffee down behind him before she pushed up on her toes to kiss him. Her fingers tangled in his hair and she was still wiggling against him. He broke away to groan when she hiked her thigh over his hip.

"You're gonna be late today," he growled. She squealed when he lifted her up, but wrapped her legs around his waist to continue kissing him as he carried her back to his bedroom. 


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juleka comes into town and has some reservations about Marinette's intentions until she sees the dress Marinette made for her. Backstage at Marinette's show, Luka and Adrien make amends, and Nino has some big news for Luka.

A week later he was waiting for Juleka at the airport. She wasn’t hard to spot when she got off the plane; the violet streak in her hair towered over everyone else in the crowd. It had taken her years to embrace her height, but once she had, no one could talk her out of wearing any pair of heels she could get her hands on. 

Both of them were grinning from ear to ear when they caught each other’s eye and she ran over to him, almost toppling him over as she threw her arms around him. He lifted her as much as he could and spun, trying his best to break her in half with his hug. 

When they broke apart and he had taken her bag, shouldering it casually, Juleka’s eyes were scanning the crowd behind him. 

“Where is she?” 

“Working,” he said, laughing. “It’s only a week left, you know. I’ve barely been able to get her to eat.” 

“So when do I get to meet her?” 

“Soon. As soon as we get you settled we’ll head over. I know she’s anxious to meet you, too. It’s all she’s talked about the past few days.” 

“I still can’t believe she’s a fan.” Juleka shook her head incredulously. “What are the odds, right?” 

There was something in her tone that hit his ear wrong. He glanced sideways at her and adjusted her bag on his shoulder. “Slim to none,” he agreed finally. “If she hadn’t happened to come in while I was working we never would have met.” 

Juleka made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat, but didn’t say anything else. But after so many years interpreting her silences, he was well versed in her moods. He knew what she was implying. Juleka had gained enough attention by now to have a healthy dose of skepticism when it came to fans. Thank God Rose was with her. That woman had a knack for giving potential stalkers a what for at the same time she gave them juice boxes and spun them towards the door with a cheerful smile. 

“She didn’t know,” he insisted. 

Juleka shrugged. “If you say so.” 

They’d reached the baggage claim and he tugged her suitcase out of the pile for her. “Sheila likes her,” he pointed out as he set the wheels down and adjusted the handle. 

“Oh, well, that solves everything, doesn’t it?” 

He shook his head and smiled, letting her annoyance roll off him. “Just do me a favor and give Marinette a chance?” 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Juleka shrugged again and sighed, which he took to mean as a begrudging acceptance. He kept smiling as they walked out in silence. She’d understand once she saw the designs. Maybe even more than he had. 

They dropped her suitcase off at his apartment first and Juleka raised an eyebrow at the way Marinette’s things were strewn across his normally tidy space, but again she said nothing. Luka couldn’t help grinning at the notebook pages and empty mugs and scraps of fabric and articles of clothing that littered the room. Marinette had been staying over after work when she could, and in the short span of a week had transformed his living space into a lived-in space. When he caught Juleka’s eye again, she rolled her eyes, but her small smile gave everything away. 

* * *

Luka balanced the food they’d picked up in his arms as they walked towards  _ Gabriel _ . Juleka made a face at the imposing solid stone wall, just like he had. He chuckled and handed her a bag of food before he pulled the door open. He strode quickly across the lobby towards Marinette’s space. He always wondered as he passed the cold, intimidating interior how Marinette had been able to work there as long as she had. But every space Marinette inhabited became so infused with her warmth that he was always drawn straight to it. 

He knocked on the door frame to announce them, more to snap Marinette out of her trance and prevent making her jump than anything else. He’d snuck in more than once in the past week while she was focused and had to peel her off the ceiling when she noticed him. 

When she pulled her head up from her machine, her eyes refocused on him slowly and he waved the bag of food by way of greeting. He watched as her eyes slid over to Juleka and she squeaked and turned a shade of crimson as her hands fluttered to her frazzled hair. 

"Oh God, was that today? I’m so sorry, I must’ve forgotten and this place is a mess… here just let me…” she kept mumbling to herself as she started flitting around the room, doing her best to clear her space, but mostly just picking things up and putting them back down—like she always did when she was nervous. 

He shot a glance at Juleka to gauge her reaction and she was watching Marinette with something like amusement. When she noticed him watching her, she rolled her eyes at him and shrugged again, but that same small half-smile from his apartment was tugging at her lips again. He couldn’t help his smug grin. Yeah, she liked Marinette. 

He cleared a space on the table and distributed the food before he finally caught hold of Marinette and kissed the side of her head as he led her gently down into a seat and pressed a fork into her hand. 

After they ate, he stood back to watch Marinette flurry around Juleka, pinning as she went and muttering measurements to herself. Juleka was standing perfectly still, but her eyes were alternately following Marinette’s movements and admiring the gown she was wearing. It was the same violet as the streak in her hair, with delicate strips of black leather criss-crossed and woven tastefully across the bust, making it more harness than gown on top. Even Luka could tell that it was practically made for Juleka to walk in. A blend of hard and soft, music and fashion, Luka’s performance translated into Marinette's design. 

At one point, Juleka caught him watching her and stuck her tongue out at him. But when she was done teasing him, she gave him a warm, wide smile and a slow nod. 

* * *

Between his work at the bar, performing there when he could, recording the music for Marinette’s show, and going to appointments with Nino to pitch his demo, and now having Juleka and Marinette staying at his apartment, the next week had passed before he could blink. He wasn’t even sure he’d slept. But as tired as he was, he was wired with adrenaline watching Marinette backstage. 

Juleka had taken her under her wing and coached her through the ins and outs so Marinette would know what to expect the day of, but Luka was still impressed with her imposing authority and creative problem-solving. Like she was born for this. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched her flitting behind the stage, trailing after models with a needle and thread and barking out orders to everyone within earshot. 

He had found himself a spot near the wall that kept him out of her way, but close enough to keep an eye on her and jump in if she needed him. Not that he thought she would. Watching her in her element, the way she was controlling the space and handling everything with such confidence made him glow with pride. 

But when she sank into a chair and leaned her head back, closing her eyes to take a deep breath, he didn’t hesitate to rush over and kneel next to her. She smiled when he slipped his hand into hers. 

“What do you need?” he asked quietly. 

“This. Just you. For a minute.” She took another deep breath in and squeezed his hand before she sat back up. When her eyes opened onto his, they were worn and tired but infused with a deep satisfaction. “I don't know how to thank you for everything you've done for me the past couple weeks.” 

“It's your big show. It's the least I could do." 

She shook her head and gripped his hand tighter. "What would I have done without you?"

“Run the world, probably.” He smirked at her and she giggled before she leaned forward to peck his cheek. He helped her back to her feet and she rolled her shoulders once before she dove back into the fray. 

Luka turned back to find his place on the wall, but found Adrien standing in it instead. When their eyes met, Adrien scooted aside and made room for Luka to stand beside him. 

“It’s something, isn’t it?” Adrien asked. Luka hummed in response. “Feels strange to be on this side of it, though,” he continued easily. “I’m usually in the center of all this mess, not off to the side.”

There was a pause between them as they both watched the hustle and bustle. Luka could feel Adrien’s tense energy pouring off him. When he wasn’t in control of a situation, he was an easy read. 

“So, MDC Designs, was that your idea, or…” 

“Hers.” 

“Right. Hers. I should’ve figured as much.” Adrien was fidgeting nervously, rubbing his ring finger as if he were missing a ring he was used to wearing. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Adrien tried again. 

Luka couldn’t keep a smile from stretching across his face. “Finally something we can agree on,” he muttered back. 

Adrien nodded. “It’s a perfect compromise, really. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier.” 

Luka felt Adrien shift sideways against him to lean his weight more towards Luka than away. He was surprised into turning his head towards Adrien to look at him fully for once. He didn’t know why he’d thought that Adrien was the same height as him. Having to look down on him was unexpected and Luka found himself slouching down on the wall to make up for it. Adrien wasn’t looking at Luka, but the way he was so focused on the scene in front of him, so impatient to jump in, so alien to being off on the side, made Luka think that maybe he had jumped to conclusions about Adrien, too. He wasn’t some suave, savvy suit with a charming smile. He was a scared little kid, still hoping to find some validation—some control over his life and his future— wherever he could find it. In the backstage light, Luka could see the shiny spot of healed skin on Adrien’s lip and he winced. 

“Look, I’m sorry about… earlier,” Luka started. “I’m not… great with words and I think what you were saying terrified me. Losing her terrified me.” 

Adrien reached up to rub the nape of his neck and refused to meet Luka’s eyes. “Me, too. But that didn’t give me any right to say what I did.” 

“You thought you were protecting her.” Luka shrugged and looked away. “I get it now.” 

“And you were, too.” Adrien sighed. “Guess we’ll have to live with each other from now on, though, right?” 

“Only as long as she wants both of us around.” Luka smirked and held his fist out sideways under his crossed arms. Adrien reached out to bump his knuckles against Luka’s. “But I will punch you again if you describe her as a ‘valuable asset’ ever again.” 

Adrien laughed. “Fair enough.” 

Just then, the backstage manager announced that it was time for the show and started lining up models. Marinette was in front with a microphone, shaking like a leaf. 

“I’m up.” Luka pushed off the wall and turned back to Adrien briefly. “Meet you over at the monitors to watch it with her?”

The grin that split Adrien’s face was bright and genuine as he nodded and hurried over to the viewing area. Luka jogged over to be in Marinette’s line of sight and gave her a breathing cue and she followed along with him. He nodded at her.  _ Complete faith _ , he thought at her. She nodded back in understanding before she faced the light of the stage and stepped out into it. 

He heard her introduce herself and thank the crowd, then jogged over to the monitors to watch the rest of her introduction. 

“First off, I’d like to thank Adrien Agreste and the  _ Gabriel _ fashion house for this amazing opportunity. This collection is dedicated to all my friends and family who have helped me and supported me on this incredible journey.” She paused and waved to someone in the front row, presumably her parents, Alya, and Nino. Sheila was out there, too, Luka knew, and he silently thanked her, too. “And the music the models will walk to today is also by the inspiration of this collection, my heartsong, Luka Couffaine.” Marinette blew a kiss into the camera and took a quick bow before she speed-walked off stage.

As soon as she walked into view backstage, Luka threw an arm out and tugged her to his side. She was shaking, but she was also grinning. His music started up over the speakers. He’d given it a solid backbeat after Juleka had taken a listen and told him it helped to have a set rhythm to walk to. But the way he’d laced his guitar through it softened the hard edge, a lot like Marinette’s designs had worked so hard to combine the flowy fabrics with the heavier ones. 

On the monitor, the first look came into view on the stage; a crisp, white cropped top with a high-waisted wide leg trouser. The seams she had left visible and shredded at the edges, giving it a rough, blurry quality.

Right after that was the ombre look, a tall, white gown muddied with red at the bottom that met in the middle as a clear, light pink. Luka squeezed Marinette to him. She was fiddling with his ring on her thumb, watching the show with a mix of anxiety and wonder. 

“You okay?” He leaned down to murmur in her ear. 

“It’s perfect,” she whispered back. “It’s… I can’t believe it. That’s my work up there and it’s…” 

“It’s gorgeous,” Adrien agreed behind them. “Beautiful work, Marinette.”

Marinette’s eyes were glued to the screen, but Luka turned his head and gave Adrien a nod of thanks. 

The next one that turned the corner was one Luka had only seen in pieces before. The blue, flowy top was paired with a tight-fitting black denim pant, distressed at the knees just like his usually were. 

Seeing her designs live and in motion, knowing this was only the beginning for her, and that she chose to start her career with this collection inspired by him was making him tear up. He shifted to be behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist while he leaned his chin on her head so she wouldn’t see. He couldn’t be the one falling apart right now; wasn’t she supposed to be the one feeling emotional? But she was a statue in his arms, frozen and holding her breath, her hands pressed against her lips. He took a deep breath against her, reminding her, and he felt her take a shuddering breath in. 

Worrying about her, he’d missed the fourth look, but he knew it was something else that used that black denim, with accents of the dyed fabric. The fifth was the black leather blazer, with fluttering teal scales down the left arm, and the model was jingling that arm as she walked so all the individual scales caught the light. Marinette had worked an entire day without stopping on that one, and he’d had to convince her to ice her fingers when she got back to his apartment. Seeing it now, though, all that work was worth it.

He noticed he was holding his own breath as he waited for Juleka to walk out. When she did turn the corner, he had to blink away the tears in his eyes. Juleka  _ loved  _ that gown. He could see it in the way she held herself. The flowy violet fabric of the skirt swished around her legs with every step, and Marinette had put a slit in it that went up to Juleka’s thigh, but the skin was only visible in tiny flashes. The black leather on top gave her curves he knew she’d always envied, and when she struck her pose at the end of the walk, Luka even caught the barest hint of a smirk to the cameras. 

Marinette started to attention and broke out of his arms to rejoin the models for the last walk. She was stiff and all the color had drained out of her face, but she was still grinning from ear to ear. 

She walked arm-in-arm with Juleka as they made their final round, and Juleka muttered something to her that made her hide a giggle behind her hand. Luka wiped his tears away and heard Adrien sniffling behind him, too. Everyone backstage applauded along with the audience, and Luka whistled as loud as humanly possible. When Marinette came backstage again, she flew into his arms and he spun her until her momentum ran out, then set her on her feet and kissed her until he couldn’t breathe anymore.

Their eyes met as he pulled away, and he got caught in them all over again, sparkling in the light, overflowing with joy. He stroked her cheekbone with his thumb and pressed another kiss to her forehead before he pulled back and let everyone else backstage mob her with congratulations. Alya ran in, squealing, and for a moment he lost sight of Marinette buried behind Alya’s curls. 

Nino strolled in after her and tucked his hands in his pockets, smiling as the two best friends celebrated. Sheila walked in a moment later and stood by Nino, and after a glance at a still-mobbed Marinette, Luka walked over to stand with them. 

“I think she likes you a little bit,” Sheila quipped, nudging Luka in the ribs with her elbow, grinning. When Luka chuckled and blushed, her grin widened. “Seriously, though, great show. And the music was perfect.” 

“I had a lot of inspiration,” he muttered back, barely containing his embarrassed smile.

“Well, I think Nino had some other good news for you, if you want to hear it.” Sheila’s eyes flashed as Luka’s shot over to Nino’s. 

Nino nodded, and the words rushed out of him. “We got a deal. They loved you and they want an entire album. They want to sign you as soon as possible.” He clapped Luka’s shoulder and shook him. “You’re gonna be famous, dude!” 

Luka felt the air get sucked out of his chest. “That’s amazing,” he managed to choke out. “That’s… that’s…” He glanced back at Marinette, enjoying her spotlight, and his heart felt like it was going to spill over. All of this, this moment backstage, the show, the song, the album, all of it was possible because of his Little Blue. Marinette. The glowing, talented, amazing, gorgeous woman soaking up her well-deserved congratulations. 

“Go tell her.” Sheila poked him in the ribs again, but he was already moving towards her. 

Towards their future. Together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done, it's over! I'm not crying, you're crying! 😭
> 
> This is the largest project I've attempted and completed to date and I still can't believe it came from a flash of an image that I was just playing around with and almost didn't even post.
> 
> I know I've said it before, but thank you so much to anyone who has been reading 💖 this would not have been possible without the kind words and encouragement you all have given me along the way.


End file.
